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New York : 
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< 1872. 






Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1872, 
by A. S. BARNES & CO., . 

In the Office of the Librarian at Washington, D. C. 



coisrTEisrTs 



FJ^TIT I.-I>OETRY. 

If we would, 7 

Speak no 111, - 8 

The Worid as it is, 9 

A Hero, 10 

Upward and Onward, 12 

The Vanity of this World, 13 

Up and Doing, 14 

The Poor and the Kich, 15 

Christ in the Tempest, 17 

An old Maxim, 18 

Cleon and I, 20 

The great King and the little King, 21 

IVIother's Fool, 23 

Our Garret, 25 

The Better for it, 27 

A Child's Joy, 28 

The Pilot, 29 

My First Whistle, 31 

Signs of the Weather, 32 

It Snows, 33 

What are the wild Waves Saying? 35 

" They Say," 36 

Boil it Down, 38 

Too deep for that, 40 

The Robin's Rehearsal, 41 

Name Unknown, 43 



CONTENTS. 

Angry Words, 44 

Troublesome Neighbors, 45 

When Will the End Come ? 47 

Suppose, 49 

All's Well that Ends Well, : 50 

Kindly Words, 52 

Some one's Servant Girl, 53 

Kind hearted George, 55 

What the Sparrow chirps, ." 56 

Smile whene'er you can, 58 

Little John Gray, 59 

Deeds of Kindness, 60 

The Rain, 62 

The Life Clock, 63 

Think before you Speak, 64 

All is Action, all is Motion, 66 

Yankee Doodle Junior, 67 

Try, keep Trying, 68 

Ambition, False and True, 70 

Every one that Asketh, Receiveth, 71 

Sowing and Reaping, 72 

Something still to Do, 73 

Boys' and Girls' Rights, 74 

TPJ^TIT II. -PROSE. 

Goodness of God, 76 

The Flowers, 77 

The Clouds, 78 

Autumn, 79 

Perseverance, 81 

The Tongue, 82 

Rivers, 82 

Winter, 84 

Words of Advice, 85 

Be Busy, 86 



CONTENTS, r 

Time, , • 87 

The Echo, , 88 

A Tsalm, 90 

Address of Welcome, 91 

Don't Give Up, , 93 

A New Term, 94 

Old Charlie, 95 

The Rain-drop, , 97 

Help One Another, , , 99 

True Courage, 100 

The Heavenljr World, - , 101 

Growth, 102 

The World, 104 

The Sun and Wind, 105 

What I like to see, , 106 

What I don't like to see, 108 

Selfishness, 109 

The Squirrel, Ill 

Our Conduct and Influence, , . 1 12 

Punctuality, 114 

Good Advice, 116 

How to have Friends, 118 

Ha:bits, 119 

Self-Conceit, 120 

Boys' Pockets, 124 

Let us be Friendly, 125 

The Blessings of Sight 126 

I>^I?,T III--r)I^I.OG-TJES. 

Conduct, 128 

Boys' Rights, 130 

The Irish Servant, 132 

Doing Right, 135 

About School, 137 

Don't be too Positive, . . , 139 



I CONTENTS. 

Fortune Telling, 141 

Strict Honesty, , 143 

On Language, 147 

Punctuality, 153 

Haughtiness Rebuked, 158 

On Politeness, 159 

Hard to Please, 161 

The Colonists, 164 

Honesty the Best Policy, 108 

Learning and Usefulness, 170 

The Children's Choice, 1 72 

What saith the Fountain "i 1 75 

Sunrise and Sunset, 177 

When we Lore the Sunshine, 178 

Wishes and Realities 180 

I Can and 1 Can^t, 182 

What we LoYe, 184 

Conscience, 185 

Freedom's Jubilee, 1 86 

The Child's Lessons, 188 

The Echo, _ 190 

AVhat to be, '193 



RECITATION. 

God is Good....... 195 

Hymn of Nature, 1 96 

Upward and Onward, 198 

Little by Little, 199 

Aspirations of Youth, 200 

Dai-eand Do, 201 

Da Good, 202 

Sow Seeds of Kindness » . . . » 203 

Keep to the Right, 204 

Speak no 111, 204 



THE TOUNG DECLAIMEE. 



If We WotQd. 



If we would but check the speaker 
When he spoils a neighbor's fame ; 

If we would but help the erring 
Ere we utter words of blame ; 

If we would, how many might we 
Turn from paths of sin and shame- 

Ah ! the wrongs that might be righted 
If we would but see the way ! 

Ah ! the pains that might be lightened 
Every hour and every day, 

If we would but hear the pleadings 
Of the hearts that go astray. 

Let us step outside the stronghold 
Of our selfishness and pride ; 

Let us lift our fainting brothers ; 
I^t us strengthen ere we chide ; 

Let us, ere we blame the fallen, 
Hold a light to cheer and guide. 



THE YOUNG DECLAIM ER, 

Ah, how blessed — ah, how blessed 
Earth would be if we'd but trj 

Thus to aid and right the weaker, 
Thus to check each brother's sigh ; 

Thus to walk in duty's pathway 
To our better life on high. 

In each life, however lowly, 

There are seeds of mighty good ; 

Still, we shrink from souls appealing. 
With a timid " If we could ^" 

But God, who knoweth all things, 
Knows the truth is, " If we would.'' 



Speak no IIL 

Nay, speak na ill ; a kindly word 

Can never leave a sting behind ; — 
And oh ! to breathe each tale we've heard 

Is far beneath a noble mind. 
For. oft a better seed is sown 

By choosing thus a kinder plan ; 
For if but little good we know, 

Let's speak of all the good we can. 

Give me the heart that fain would hide — 
Would fain another's fault efface. 

How can it please our human pride 
To prove humanity but base ? 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 

No, let it reach a higher mode — 

A nobler estimate of man : 
Be earnest in the search of good, 
And speak of all the good we can. 

Then speak no ill, but lenient be 

To others' failings as your own. 
If you're the first a fault to see, 

Be not the first to make it known. 
For life is but a passing day ; 

No lips can tell how brief the stay. 
Be earnest in the search for good, 

And speak of all the good we may. 



The "World as it Is. 



The world is not so bad a world 

As some would like to make it ; 
Though whether ^ood or whether bad, 

Depends on how we take it. 
For if we scold and fret all day, 

From dewy morn till even, 
This world will ne'er afford to man 

A foretaste here of heaven. 

This world in truth's as good a world 
As e'er was known to any, 

Who have not seen another yet, 
And these are very many ; 



10 TOE YOUNG DECLAIMEK, 

And if the men, and women toa, 
Have plenty of employment, 

Those sm-ely must be hard to please 
Who cannot find enjoyment. 

This world is quite a clever worldy 

In rain or pleasant weather, 
If people would but learn to live 

In harmony together ; 
Nor seek to burst the kindly bond 

By love and peace cemented. 
And learn that best of lessons yet, 

Always to be contented. 

Then were the world a pleasant world. 

And pleasant folks were in it, 
The day would pass most pleasantly 

To those who thus begin it ; 
And all the nameless grievances 

Brought on by borrowed troubles. 
Would prove, as certainly they are, 

A mass of empty bubbles I 



A Hero. 



Perhaps you think a hera 
A man of giant might, 

A warrior m armor, 

A champion for the right. 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER, 11 

Who through the world goes boasting 

That wrong shall be no more ; 
The glory of whose exploits 

Is sung from shore to shore. 

In olden times a hero 

Was such a man, I know ; * 
He went to battle aided 

By javelin and bow. 
You all have heard of Ajax, 

Of Priam's valiant son, 
And of the great Achilles, 

Who many battles won. 

But now to be a hero. 

Is quite another thing ; 
And he who earns the title 

Is nobler than a king. 
'Tis he who follows duty, 

Who scorns to be untrue ; 
Who's guided by his conscience, 

Not by what others do. 

And you may be a hero, 

By doing all you can 
To free the world from error. 

And aid your brother man. 
And though no blast of trumpet 

Your greatness may proclaim, 
With heartfelt benedictions 

Mankind will breathe vour name. 



12 THE YOUNG DECLAi:WEK, 



tJpward and Onward. 

Battling in the cause of tj-iith 
With the zeal and strength of youth ; 
Upward, raise your banner higher, 
Onwardj urge your phalanx nigher 

To the center of the strife : 
Strike, where virtue finds a foe — 
Strike, while love directs the blow — 

Where the foes of man are rife. 

Be your watchword truth and love, 
Be your stay the strength above ; 
'Mid the pure, remain the purest, 
'Mid the faitliful, be the surest — 

Temperance your banner star. 
Ask not rest, nor pray for peace, 
'Till the demon foe shall cease 

Life and all its joys to mar. 

Warriors in the cause of right, 
Earnest in your zeal and might. 
Joying in your high endeavor, 
Onward press, and falter never, 

'Till the victory be won. 
Shout, until the field ye gain. 
Press to those which still remain. 

Battling till the work be done. 

— Wm. Andrew Sigourney. 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 13 



The Vanity of tMs World. 

A rosy child went forth to play, 

In the first flush of hope and pride, 
Where sands in silver beauty lay, 

Made smooth by the retreating tide ; 
And, kneeling on the trackless waste, 

Whence ebbed the waters many a mile, 
He raised, in hot and trembling haste. 

Arch, wall, and tower — a goodly pile. 



But when the shades of evening fell, 
Veiling the blue and j^eaceful deep, 

The tolling of the distant bell 

Called the boy builder home to sleep ; 

He passed a long and restless night. 

Dreaming of structures tall and fair ; — 

He came with the returning light. 

And lo, the faithless sands were bare. 

Less wise than that unthinking child 

Are all that breathe of mortal birth, 
Who grasp, with strivings warm and wild, 

The false and fading toys of ea -th. 
Gold, learning, glory — what are they 

Without the faith that looks on liigh ? 
The sand forts of a cliild at play. 

Which are not when the waves go by. 



14 THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 



Tip and Doing:. 



Boys, be up and doing, 
For the day's begun ; 

Soon will come the noontide, 
Then the set of sun ; 

At your task toil bravely 
Till your work is done. 

Let your hands be busy 
In some useful way ; 

Don't neglect your study, 
Don't forget your play ; 

For each there's time enough 
Every blessed day. 

You will soon be men, boys s 
Soon will have to take 

The places of your fathers ; 
Fill it for their sake ; 

And in all that's noble 
Pray be wide awake ! 

Boys, be kind and friendly ; 

Lend a helping hand 
To the weak and feeble, 

Till alone they stand ; 
And in loving others 

Fulfill God's command. 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 15 

Don't be mean and selfish ; 

Stoop not to deceit; 
In all things be manly, 

Life will then be sweet, 
And Death's coming find you 

"With your work complete. 

— Kate Cameron. 



The Poor and the Rich, 

The rich man's son inherits lands, 
And piles of brick and stone and gold, 
And tender fiesh that fears the cold, 
Nor dares to Avear a garment old j 
A heritage, it seems to me, 
One would not care to hold in fee. 

The rich man's son inherits cares: 

The bank may break, the factory burn, 

Some breath may burst his bubble shares. 

And soft white hands would scarcely earn 

A living that would suit his turn ; 

A heritage, it seems to me. 

One Avould not care to hold in fee. 

"What do3s the poor man's son inherit ? 
Stout muscles and a sinewy heart, 
A hardy frame, a hardier spirit ; 



16 THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 

King of two hands, he does his part 

In every useful toil and art; 

A heritage, it seems to me, 

A king might wish to hold in fee. 

What does the j)Oor man's son inherit ? 

Wishes o'erjoyed with humble things, 

A rank adjudged by toil-worn merit, 

Content that from enjoyment springs, 

A heart that in his labor sings ; 

A heritage, it seems to me, 

A king might wish to hold in fee. 

^Yhat docs the poor man's son inherit ? 

A patience learned by being poor, 

Courage, if sorrow come, to bear it ; 

A fellow-feeling that is sure 

To make the outcast bless his door ; 

A heritage, it seems to me, 

A king might wish to hold in fee. 

Oh, rich man's son, there is a toil 
That with all others level stands ; 
Large charity doth never soil, 
But only whitens, soft white hands; 
This is the best crop from thy lands ; 
A heritage, it seems to me, 
Worth being rich to hold in fee. 



THE YOUKC DECLAIMEK. 17 

Oil, poor man's son, scorn not thy state ! 
There is worse weariness than thine, — 
In being merely rich and great ; 
Work only makes the soul to shine, 
And makes rest fragrant and benign, 
A heritage, it seems to me, 
Worth being poor to hold in fee. 

Both heirs to some six feet of sod, 
Are equal in the earth at last — 
Loth children of the same dear God, 
Prove title to your heirship vast, 
By record of a well-filled past ! 
A heritage, it seems to me, 
Yfell worth a life to hold in fee. 



Christ in the Tempest. 



All night long the winds were raging 

O'er the lake of Galilee ; 
All the night a little vessel 

Tossed upon the stormy cea. 

And the rovers, worn with watching, 

Prcsced with •:oil, overwhelmed Yidth fear, 

Toward the moriiing watch, a whisper 
O'or the watcro, seemed to 'j-ccr. 



18 THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 

And a form amid the billows, 

Spirit-like yet firm, did tread ; 
And again the voice rose sweeter 

" It is I, be not afraid." 

It was Jesus, and the tumult 

At His voice of peace was stilled, 

While the hearts of the disciples — 
All with grateful love were filled. 

Storms arise on every pathway ; 

Every life the tempest knows ; 
Grief and pain and fearful watching 

Keep the spirit from repose. 

Yet we need not walk in terror. 
Though the thunders fill the sky ; 

For the voice of Jesus crieth 

Through the darkness — " ZJ cb I»' 

^—Ekaizor S. Deans* 



An Old Maxim. 



•'Do as they do in Gpain, 
When it rains, let it rain. 



The year is not all summer hours, 

jLind as the time goes by 
T-io Iiarvc^i r.nd the brightest flowers 

Will hang their heads and die. 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 19 

The winds of the warm bright weather 
Will roughen and chill you through, 

And the clouds will gather and gather, 
And shut out all the blue. 

Then ^- do as they do in Spain, 

And if it rains, let it rain ! " 

All days cannot be holidays. 

For the living must be fed. 
And the men must work and the women work 

To get the cliildren bread. 
And when your time is come, why then 

Your playthings put away. 
And take the place of women and men 

Who work for you to-day. 
Ah ! " do as they do in Spain, 
And if it rains, let it rain." 

The world's not all a pleasure-ground, 

'Tis full of pain and ill, 
And when it turns itself around. 

As turn itself it will, 
And that before 'tis very long. 

Why, then, my girl and boy, 
Just keep your hearts as brave and strong 

As in the time of joy, 
And '•' do as they do in Spain, 
And if it rains, let it rain ! " 

— Alice Carey, 



20 THE YOUNG DECLAIMEE. 

Cleon and I. 

Cleon hath a million acres — 

Ne'er a one have I ; 
Cleon dwelleth in a palace — 

In a cottage, I ; 
Cleon hath a dozen fortunes — 

Not a penny, I ; 
But the poorer of the twain is 

Cleon, and not I. 

Cleon, true, possesseth acres, 

But the landscape, I ; 
Half the charms to me it yieldeth 

Money cannot buy ; 
Cleon harbors sloth and dullness, 

Freshening vigor, I ; 
He in velvet, I in fustian, — 

Richer man am I. 

Cleon is a slave to grandeur — 
Free as thought am I ; 

Cleon fees a score of doctors- 
Need of none have I ; 

Wealth surrounded, care-environed. 
Cleon fears to die ; 

Death may come, he'll find me ready. 
Happier man am I. 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMErw. 21 

Cleon sees no charms in Nature — 

In a daisy, I ; 
Cleon hears no anthem ringing 

In the sea and sky ; 
Nature sings to me forever — 

Earnest listener, I ; 
State for state, with all attendants, 

Who would change ? — Not I. 

— Chas. MacTcay. 



The Great King and the Little King:. 

One day the birds all met in a tree, 

But they didn't meet to sing — 
They met to argue jDolitics 

And to choose themselves a king. 
There were so many overhead. 

Coming and going back. 
And so many round about the tree, 

That the air was fairly black. 

Some chirped, some cried, some screamed aloud, 

Some sat with slanting eye. 
For there were many candidates, 

And party strife ran high. 



22 THE YOUNG DECLAIMEB. 

At last it was agreed by all 

To choose the bird whose wing 
Could soar the nearest to the sky, 

And crown him for their king. 

The swallow tried her strength, and then 

The blackbird and the blue, 
And then the sturdy honest quail ; 

But none of them would do. 
Then all at once the eagle swooped 

From out the fluttering crowd, 
And in a minute more his head 

Was level with a cloud. 

Then what was the astonishment 

Of all the birds to see 
A little wren upon his tail. 

Who cried out, " Look at me ! " 
So half the birds began to cry, 

And half began to sing. 
For some reviled him for a knave, 

And some would have Mm king. 

Just then an owl, who lived hard by] 

Within a hollow stub. 
Called, " Wren, come down and get your crown, 

Or lose it — there's the rub ! " 
" Good eagle, help me," cried the wren, 

Ashamed and out of breath — 
" I cannot fly so near the sky, 

And if I fall 'tis death ! " 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER, 23 

No honor such a flight as this 

To any bird could bring, 
And so they named him Regulus, 

Which means a little king. 
The eagle's strength was in himself 

To fly or up or down, 
And so they named liim king of birds, 

And so he won his crown. 

— Alice Carey» 



"Mother's Fool." 

" 'Tis plain to me," said the farmer's wife, 
" Those boys will make their marks in life ; 
They never were made to handle a hoe, 
And at once to college the|f ought to go ; 
Yes, John and Henry — 'tis clear to me — 
Great men in this worl4 are sure to be ; 
But Tom, he's little above a fool — 
So John and Henry must go to school." 

" Now, really, wife," quoth farmer Brown, 
As he set his mug of cider down ; 
" Tom does more work in a day, for me, 
Than both of his brothers do in three. 
Book learnin' will never plant beans or com^ 
Nor hoe potatoes — sure as you're born ; 
Nor mend a rood of broken fence ; — ■ 
For my part give me common sense." 



24 THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 

But his wife the roost was bound to rule, 
And so " the boys " were sent to school ; 
While Tom, of course, was left behind, 
For his mother said he had no mind. 

Five years at school the students spent, 

Then each one into business went ; 

John learned to play the flute and fiddle. 

And parted his hair (of course) in the middle. 

Though his brother looked rather higher than he, 

And hung out his shingle — " li. Brown, M. D." 

Meanwhile, at home, their brother Tom, 

Had taken a " notion " into his head ; 

Though he said not a word, but trimmed his trees, 

And hoed his corn and sowed his peas ; 

But somehow, either " by hook or crook," 

He managed to read full many a book. 

Well, the war broke out ; and " Captain Tom," 
To battle a hundred soldiers led ; 
And when the rebel flag went down 
Came marching home as " General Brown." 
But he went to work on the farm again, 
Planted his corn and sowed his grain, 
Repaired the house and broken fence, 
And i^eople said he had " common sense." 

Now, common sense was rather rare, 

And the State House needed a portion there ; 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 25 

So our " family dunce " moved into town, 
And people called liim '• Governor Brown ; " 
And his brothers, that went to the city school, 
Came home to live with mother's fool. 



Oixr G-arret. 

Oh, I love our dim old garret, 
Love to hear its echoes call, 

From the lonely nooks and corners 
Where the shadows darkly fall. 

There 'tis joyous to see the sunbeams 
Through the dusty windows pour, 

Lighting up the tall old rafters, 
Falling brightly on the floor. 

Many hours I've spent up garret, 
Reading tales and legends old, 

That I found in chests and boxes 
Filled with treasures all untold,— 

Treasures of old-fashioned clothing, 
That were worn long years ago ; 

Papers, books, and faded pictures 
Of the times of long ago. 



26 THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 

Often have I watched the spiders 
Spin their web along the beam, 

Little thinking that I also 

Spun the thread of life's short dream ;— 

Little thinking that the shadows, 
And the sunshine on the floor. 

Might be likened to the sorrows 
And the joys for me in store. 

It is well for us the future 

God hath hidden from our view , 

Let us trust Him, let us love Him- 
God is wise, and good, and true 

And I like to sit and listen 

To the music of the rain. 
As it falls upon the shingles. 

As it patters on the pane 

Oh, I love our dim old garret. 
And the memories long will last 

Of the pleasant hours I've spent there, 
In the years that now are past. 

^-H. Rose Bond, 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER, 27 



The Better for it. 

If men cared less for wealth and fame, 

And less for battle-fields and glory ; 
K writ in human hearts, a name 

Seemed better than in song and story; 
K men, instead of nursing pride, 

Would learn to hate it and abhor it, — 
If more relied 
On love to guide, 
The world would be the better for it. 

If men dealt less in stocks and lands, 

And more in bonds and deeds fraternal, 
If Love's work had more willing hands, 

To link this world to the supernal ; 
If men stored up Love's oil and wine, 
In bruised human hearts to pour it ; 
If " yours " and " mine," 
Would once combine, 
The world would be the better for it. 

If men would act the part of Life, 
And fewer spoil it in rehearsal ; 

If bigotry would sheath its knife 
Till God became more universal ; 

If custom, gray with ages grown, 
Had fewer blind men to adore it,^ — 



23 THE YOUNG DECLAI31EK. 

If talent shone 
In truth alone, 
The world would be the better for it. 

If men were wise in little things, — 

Affecting less in all their dealings s 
If hearts had fewer rusted strings 
To isolate their kindly feelings ; 
If men, when Wrong beats down the Right, 
Would strike together and restore it, — 
If Right made Might 
In every fight, 
The world would be the better for it. 

— Merry's Museum. 



A CMld's Joy. 



What joy it is, from day to day, 
To skip and sing, and dance and play 
To breathe the air, to feel the sun 
And o'er the spangled meadows run. 

What joy to move my limbs about, 
To whoop and hallo, call and shout 
Amonfj the woods and feel as free 
As any bird upon a tree. 



THE YOUNG DECL AIMER. 29 

What joy, when hungry, 'tis to eat, 
What pleasure is our daily meat ; 
How sweet, when sleep the eyelids close, 
To sink in calm and soft repose. 

AYhat joy as morn begins to break, 
Refreshed and vigorous to wake — 
To feel, amid the dews and flowers, 
New life bestowed on all my powers. 

But who bestows this constant joy 
On every little girl and boy ? 
'Tis God, our Father, bright and wise, 
Whose goodness every joy supplies. 

Then let us love and praise the Lord, 
And strive to know his holy word ; 
To do no wrong, and think no ill. 
And evermore perform His will. 



The PUot. 



The curling waves with awful roar 

A little boat assailed. 
And pallid fear's distractuag power 

O'er all on board prevailed, — ■ 



30 THE YOUNG RECLAIMER. 

Save one, the Captain's darling child, 
Who steadfast viewed the storm, 

And, fearless, with composure smiled 
At danger's threatening form. 

" And fear'st thou not ? " a seaman cried, 
" While terrors overwhelm ? " 

" Why should I fear ? " the child replied, 
" My father's at the helm." 

Thus when our earthly hopes are reft. 

Our earthly comforts gone, 
We still have one sure anchor left, — 

God helps, and He alone. 

He to our cries will lend an ear ; 

He'll give our pangs relief, — 
He'll turn to smiles each twinkling tear, — 

To joy each torturing grief. 

Turn, turn to Him, 'mid sorrows wild, 

W^hen terrors overwhelm, 
Remembering, like the tearless child, 

Our Father's at the helm. 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 31 

My First Whistle. 

Of all the toys I e'er have known, 

I loved that whistle best ; 
It was my first, it was my own, 
And I was doubly blest. 

'Twas Saturday, and afternoon. 

That school-boys' jubilee, 
When the young heart is all in tune 

From book and ferule free. 

I then was in my seventh year ; 

The birds were all a singing; 
Above a brook that rippled clear, 

A willow tree was swmging. 

My brother Ben was very 'cute ; 

He climbed that willow tree ; 
He cut a branch, and I was mute. 

The while, with ecstacy. 

"With pen-knife he did cut it 'round. 

And gave the bark a wring ; 
He shaped the mouth, and tried the sound,— 

It was a glorious thing ! 

I blew that whistle, full of joy — 

It echoed o'er the ground ; 
And never, since that simple toy. 

Such music have I found. 



32 THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 

Fve seen blue eyes and tasted wines — 

With many toys been blest, 
But backward memory still inclines 

To love that whistle best. 

— Saunders* 



Sig-ns of the Weather. 



The hollow winds begin to blow, 
The clouds look black, the glass is low ; 
The soot falls down, the spaniels sleep 
And spiders from their cob-webs peep. 
Last night the sun went pale to bed, 
The moon in halos hid her head ; 
Hark ! how the chairs and tables crack ! 
Old Betty's joints are on the rack : 
Her corns with shooting pains torment her. 
And to her bed untimely send her ; 
Loud quack the ducks, the sea-fowl cry, 
The distant hills are looking nigh. 
How restless are the snorting swine ! 
The busy flies disturb the kine ; 
Low on the grass, the swallow wings ; 
The cricket too how sharp she sings ! 
Puss, on the hearth, with velvet paws 
Sits wiping o'er her whiskered jaws ; 
The smoke from chimneys right ascends. 
Then spreading back to earth it bends ; 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 33 

Through the clear stream the fishes rise 
And nimbly catch the incautious flies. 
.The glow-worms, num'rous, clear and bright, 
Illumined the dewy hill last night ! 
At dusk the squalid toad was seen 
Like quadruped stalk o'er the green. 
The whirling wind the dust obeys, 
And in the rapid eddy plays. 
The frog has changed his yellow vest, 
And in a russet coat is dressed. 
Behold the rooks, how odd their flight ! 
They imitate the gliding kite ; 
In fiery red the Sun doth rise, 
She wades through clouds to mount the skies. 
'Twill surely rain, we see with sorrow; 
No working in the fields to-morrow ! 

— Jennett, 



It Snows. 

It snows ! it snows ! from out the sky 
The feathered flakes, how fast they fly, 
Like little birds, that don't know why 
They're on the chase f/om place to place, 
While neither can the other trace. 
It snows ! it snows ! a merry play 
Is o'er us on this heavy day. 



34 THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 

As dancers in an airy hall, 

That hasn't room enough to hold them all, 

While some keep up and others fall, 

The atoms shift, then, thick and swift, 

They drive along to form the drift 

That weaving up so dazzling white. 

Is rising like a wall of light. 

But now the wind 3omes whistling loud, 

To snatch and waft it as a cloud ; 

Or giant phantom in a shroud ; 

It spreads ! it curls ! it mounts and whirls, 

At length, a mighty wing unfurls ; 

And then, away ! but where none knows, 

Or ever will. It snows ! it snows ! 



To-morrow will the storm be done 

Then out will come the golden sun, 

And we shall see, upon the run 

Before his beams, in sparkling streams, 

"What now a curtain o'er him seems. 

And thus, with life, it ever goes ; 

'Tis shade and shine J It snows ! it snows ! 

^-Hannah F. Gould* 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 35 



"What are the Wild Waves Sa3dng:?" 

" What are the wild waves saying, 

Sailor, to thee ? " 
" Oh, their voice is like sweetest music 

Singing to me. 
Now it swells to the roar of tempest 

Making my heart grow strong, 
Now, amid its soft low murmurs 
I hear the mermaid's song.'* 

" What are the wild waves saying 

Merchant, to thee ? " 
" Oh, they speak of my goodly vessels 

Far o'er the sea. 
Sometimes they mock me with laughter 

When I sigh o'er my sunken gold ; 
Sometimes they bring me good tidings 

From the shores whence their waters rolled." 

" What are the wild waves saying 

Child of fashion, to thee ? " 
" Oh, I heed not their ceaseless dashing, 

They never speak to me. 
Or if they could, they would tell me 

Naught that I care to hear, 
For sometimes their sound at midnight 
Fills me with strongest fear." 



36 THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 

" What are the wild waves saying 

Poet, to thee ? " 
*' One word they speak to me ever, 

Eternity. 
Yet, all of their strange sweet music 

I may not understand 
Till I read life's wondrous secret, 
Afar iu the heavenly land." 

— H. Frances Osborne, 



They Say. 

" They say " — Ah ! well, suppose they do, 
But can they prove the story true ? 
Suspicion may arise from naught 
But malice, envy, want of thought ; 
Why count yourself among the " they " 
Who whisper what they dare not say ? 

" They say " — but why the tale rehearse, 

And help to make the matter worse ? 

No good can possibly accrue 

From telling what may be untrue ; 

And is it not a nobler plan 

To speak of all the best you can ? 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 37 

*= They say " — Well, if it should be so, 
Why need you tell the tale of woe? 
Will it the bitter wrong redress, 
Or make one pang of sorrow less ? 
Will it the erring one restore, 
Henceforth to go and sin no more ? 

*' They say " — Oh ! pause and look within — 
See how thine heart inclines to sin ; 
Watch, lest in dark temptation's hour, 
Thou, too, shouldst sink beneath its power. 
Pity the frail, weep o'er the fall. 
But speak of good, or not at all. 



The Youthful Advocate. 



I am but a little teetotal man. 

And cannot do much, but I do what I can 

To promote the temperance cause. 
I never drink ale, or any such thing 
As brandy or rum, wine, whisky, or sling — 

Man's curse, and the cause of his woes. 

I drink cold water, so clear and so sweet : 

It quenches my tliirst, gives health to my cheek, 

And brings neither sorrows nor woes. 
It comes from above, so bright and so free ; 
In dewdrops, it shines like pearls from the sea ; 

And in streams of abundance it flows. 



38 THE YOUNG DECLAIMEK. 

Enriching tlie soil, it supplies us with bread, 
Gives life to the flowers in the green, grassy mead, 

And meets us where'er we may rove. 
The beautiful birds, in the midst of their song, 
Stop and drink from the brook, as it murmurs along 

Through brake and through woodland 
and grove. 

Would you sing, like the birds, with sweetness and 

power. 
Or, blooming in beauty, outrival the flower, 

With cheeks fresh and healthy as mine ? 
Make water your drink, and unite heart and hand 
To rescue and save every child in the land, 

And the pledge of true temperance sign. 



Boil it Down. 

Whatever you have to say, my friend, 
Whether witty, or grave, or gay. 

Condense as much as ever you can, 
And say in the readiest way ; 

And whether you write of rural affairs, 
Or particular things in town. 

Just take a word of friendly advice — 
Boil it down. 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 39 

For if you go spluttering over a page 

When a couple of lines would do, 
Your butter is spread so much, you see, 

That the bread looks plainly through ; 
So when you have a story to tell, 

And would like a little renown. 
To make quite sure of your wish, m}' friend, 
Boil it down. 

When writing an article for the press, 

Whether prose or verse, just try 
To utter your thoughts in the fewest words, 

And let them be crisp and dry ; 
And when it is finished, and you suppose 

It IS done exactly brown. 
Just look it over again, and then 

Boil it down- 

For editors <Jo not like to print 

An article lazily long, 
And the busy reader does not care 

For a couple of yards of song ; 
So gather your wits in the smallest S2:)ace, 

If you'd win the author's crown, 
And every time you write, my friend, 
Boil it down. 



40 THE YOUNG I>ECLAIMER. 



"Toa Deep for That." 

" Yes," said Farmer Brown, 
Bringing his hard fist down 

On the old oak table, — 
" They say that men can talk 
From Paris to New York, 

Through a sunken cable I 

" 'Tis perfectly absurd, 
For to hear a single word. 

No man is able ; 
And it's clear enough to me 
That this wide-spread mystery 

Is a foolish fable. 

" The news we get from Rome 
Is all made up at home, 

^Tis my conviction ; 
And that, you see, will account 
For the terrible amount 
Of contradiction. 

" Yes," said Farmer Brown,. 
Bringing his hard fist down 

On the old oak table, — 
" My wife and I have tried 
The experiment ; we tied 

A good stout bit of cable 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 41 

To the fence, just over there, 
And the rocker of this chair; 

And we couldn't do it, 
Though we screamed ourselves as hoarse 
As tree-toads ; but of course 

Not one word went through it I 

*' Don't talk to me, I pray, 
Of fresh news every day, 

Through sunken cables: 
Sea-yarns are always tough, 
And I have heard enough 

Of such old fables ! " 

— Hearth and Home* 



The Bobin's Behearsal. 

Out for a morning rehearsal, 

Robin, and Squirrel, and bee ; 
They have an orchestral meeting, 

Up in that sycamore tree. 
Robin has plumes on her bonnet, 

Squirrel is dressed in his fars — 
Bee wears a black and gold velvet, 

Finest of laces are hers. 

^' Now for our practice," said Robin, 
" You can sing air, Mistress Bee, 



42 THE YOUXa DECL AIMER. 

You take the hase, Mr. Squirrel^ 
That will leave alto for me." 

Up rose their voices together, 

Squirrel song, bee song, and bird ; 

It was the funniest medley 
You in your life ever heard. 

But among happiest singers 

Sometimes dissension will come — 
" Stop, Mistress Bee," cried the squirrely 

" You can do nothing but hum." 
" Pray, what can you do but chatter ? '* 

Madam retorted, and though 
She to her friends is all sweetnessy 

She is a dangerous foe. 

Fiercely the quarrel was raging, 

Robin said, " Here let it end ; 
Neither shall sing at my concert. 

Neither one now is my friend." 
So in disgrace they were banished ; 

Soon other birds came, and they, 
Being invited by Robin, 

Joined in a sweet matinee. 

Little ones, here is a lesson, 
Whether at work or at play, 

Studying, talking, or singing, 
Never to anger give way. 

Whoso controlleth his spirit 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 43 

Greater than monarch is he ; ^ 

Better than conquermg chieftain, 
Kicher his ^lerdon shall be. 



Name TJnkno-wn.' 



In a southern land, — by the river side, 
Where the crystal waters gently glide, — 
In a sunken grave, with thick grass o'ergrown, 
Sleeps ^' A federal soldier — name unknown." 

There's a narrow slab at the soldier's head. 
Which the rain has washed with its pearly thread, 
Till we scarce can read, on the head-board lone. 
This: "A federal soldier — name unknown," 

He had fought all day, ere he bravely fell, 
'Neath the dear old flag that he loved so well, 
Till the stars of eve in sweet pity shone 
On " A federal soldier — name unknown.'* 

Then a stranger had scooped a shallow grave, 
'Neath the dreamy light which the moonbeams gave; 
And laid him down — with a board for a stone, 
Marked — " A federal soldier — name unknown." 

There are anxious hearts in a northern home 
As they wait for an absent one to come ; 
Ah ! they do not know that in death, alone. 
Lies " A federal soldier — name unknown." 



44 THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 

There are loving ones who will watch and wait 
For his welcome step at the garden gate ; 
Yet their yearning arms will no more be thrown 
'Round " A federal soldier— name unknown." 

May God soothe their hearts when the war is o'er 
And the father and husband come home no more. 
How vain is the wife's and the mother's moan 
For " A federal soldier — name unknown." 

Yet the time will come, which shall re-unite 
Those who pass from earth to the realm of light ; 
May the loved ones meet, — at the heav'nly throne, — 
With " A federal soldier — name unknown ! " 

— W. Dexter Smith, Jr. 



Angry Words. 



Angry words are lightly spoken, 

In a rash and thoughtless hour ; 
Brightest links of life are broken 

By their deep, insidious power. 
Hearts inspired by warmest feeling, 

Ne'er before by anger stirred, 
Oft are rent past human healing 

By a single angry word. 

Poison drops of care and sorrow, 

Bitter poison drops are they, 
Weaving for the coming morrow 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 45 

Saddest memories of to-day. 
Angry words, let them never 

From the tongue unbridled slip; 
May the heart's best impulse ever 

Check them e'er they soil the lip. 

Love is much too pure and holy, 

Friendship is too sacred far 
For a moment's reckless folly, 

Thus to desolate and mar. 
Angry words are lightly spoken, 

Bitterest thoughts are rashly stirred, 
Brightest links in life are broken 

By a single angry word. 



Troublesome Neighbors. 



First, Mrs. McGinty came over to know 
If a pailful of coal she could borrow, 

Her husband had ordered a ton from the yard ; 
She'd return it by to-morrow. 

Then came Mrs. Martin, from over the way. 
Who said she 'stepped over to see 

If I would oblige her, till that afternoon. 
With only a drawing of tea. 



46 THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 

Next came INIrs. Johnson, who'd like very much 

I'd lend her, an hour or two, 
A couple of irons, as she had on hand 

Some work she hurried to do. 

Then came Mrs. Thompson, a neighbor next door- 
A troublesome, cranky old dame, — 

Who wanted to borrow, for that afternoon, 
The loan of my large quilting frame. 

Scarce had she gone when old Widow Jones, 

Who said she was going to scrub, 
Came into the room and wanted to know 

If I'd lend her the use of my tub. 

Then Mrs. Wilson came over in haste, — 

In her hands a pitcher she bore ; 
Her molasses fell short, she hadn't enough, 

And would like to borrow some more. 

Next came Mrs. Hernando, who wanted to know 
If the late paper I had read through, 

And would feel much obliged to me if I would 
But loan if an hour or two. 

And even at night, when going to bed. 
There came to my door Mrs. Doyle, 

Who had to sit up, — her daughter was sick, — 
And wanted some kerosene oil. 



THE YOUNa DECLAIMER. 47 

With patience exhausted, I'm forced to declare 
That in future I'll lessen my labors, 

By refusing to lend everything I possess 
To improvident, troublesome neighbors. 

— Waverly Magazine, 



When "Will the End Come ? 

TVTien legislators keep the law. 

When banks dispense with doors and locks, 
When berries, whortle, rasp, and straw, 

Grow bigger downward through the box ; 

When he that selleth house or land 
Shows leak in roof or flaw in right ; 

When haberdashers choose the stand 
Whose window has the broadest light ; . 

When preachers tell us all they think, 
And party leaders all they mean ; 

When what we pay for, — what we drink, 
From real grape and coffee-bean ; 

When lawyers take what they would give, 
And doctors give what they would take ; 

When city fathers eat to live, 

Save when they fast for conscience sake ; 



48 THE YOUNG DECL AIMER. 

When one that hath a horse on sale 
Shall bring his merit to the proof. 

Without a lie for every nail 

That holds the iron on the hoof; 

When in the usual place for rips 

Our gloves are stitched with special care, 

And guarded well the whalebone tips, 
AVhere first umbrellas need repair ; 

When Cuba's weeds have quite forgot 
The power of suction to resist, 

And claret bottles harbor not 

Such dimples as would hold your fist ; 

When publishers no longer steal, 

And pay for what they stole before ; 

When the first locomotive wheel 

JIolls through the Hoosac tunnel's bore ; 

Till then let Gumming blaze away, 
And Miller's saints blow up the globe : 

But when you see that blessed day. 
Then order your ascension robe. 

— Oliver Wendell Holmes. 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 49 

Suppose ? 

Suppose, my little lady, 

Your doll should break her head, 
Could you make it whole by crying 

Till your eyes and nose are red ? 
And wouldn't it be pleasanter 

To treat it as a joke ; 
And say you're glad " 'Twas dolly's, 

And not your head that broke ? " 

Suppose you're dressed for walking, 

And the rain comes pouring down, 
Will it clear off any sooner 

Because you scold and frown? 
And wouldn't it be nicer 

For you to smile than pout, 
And so make sunshine in the house 

When there is none without ? 

Suppose your task, my little man, 

Is very hard to get, 
Will it make it any easier 

For you to sit and fret? 
And w^ouldn't it be wiser. 

Than waiting like a dunce. 
To go to work in earnest 

And learn the thing at once ? 



50 THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 

Suppose that some boys have a horse, 

And some a coach and pair, 
Will it tire you less while walking 

To say, " It isn't fair ? " 
And wouldn't it be nobler 

To keep your temper sweet, 
And in your heart be thankful 

You can walk upon your feet? 

And suppose the world don't please you, 

Nor the way some people do, 
Do you think the whole creation 

Will be altered just for you? 
And isn't it, my boy or girl, 

The wisest, bravest plan. 
Whatever comes, or doesn't come. 

To do the best you can ? 

— Phcebe Careif. 



-♦►^ 



AU's WeU that Ends Well. 

A friend of mine was married to a scold, 
To me he came, and all his troubles told. 
Said he, " She's like a woman raving mad." 
" Alas ! my friend," said I, " that's very bad." 
" No, not so bad," said he ; " for with herj true, 
I had both house, and land, and money, too." 



THE YOUNG DEC L AIMER. 51 

« That was well," said I. 

" No, not so well," said he ; 
" For I and her own brother 
Went to law with one another ; 
I was cast, the suit was lost. 
And every penny went to pay the cost." 

" That was bad," said I. 

" No, not so bad," said he ; 
" For we agreed that he the house should keep, 
And give to me fourscore of Yorkshire sheep ; 
All fat, and fair, and fine, they were to be." 
" Well, then," said I, " sure that was well for thee." 

" No, not so well," said he ; 

" For when the sheep I got, 
They every one died with the rot." 

" That was bad," said I. 

" No, not so bad," said he ; 
" For I had thought to scrape the fat, 
And keep it in an open vat. 
Then into tallow melt for winter store." 
'' Why, then," said I, " that's better than before." 

" No, not so well," said he ; 
" For having got a clumsy fellow 
To scrape the fat and make the tallow, 
Into the melting fat the fire catches, 
And like brimstone matches, 
Burned my house to ashes." 

" That was bad," said I. 



52 THE YOUNG DECLAIMER, 

" No, not so bad," said he ; 
'' For what is best, 
My scolding wife is gone among the rest." 



Kindly Words. 



As the dew unto the floweret, 
Kindly words and kindly deed 

Come unto earth':: wandermg children, 
To supply their spirit's needc 

Kindly words make all the richer. 
Both the giver and the given. 

Ever wake life's sweetest echoes, 
Making earth a second heaven. 

Speak them often, speak them often^. 
Do not grudge them, they may be 

Life and anchor, hope, salvationj 
In some future day to thee. 

We are sailing down life's ocean ; 

Oftentimes the billows roar ; 
Hear ye not the waves' commotion, 

Steer ye for the heavenly shore, 
Gaining glimpses of land immortal 

In eternal evermore. 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 53' 

Faint not, pale not, nor grow weary, 
But push onward through the strife, 

Sowing goodly seeds forever, 
To spring up to perfect life. 

Kindly words are full of glory, 

Glory given from above ; 
Blooming maid and patriarch hoary 

Need those messengers of love. 

— Emma Passmore. 



Some One's Servant Girl. 

She stood there leaning wearily 

Against the window frame. 
Her face was patient, sad and sweet, 

Her garments coarse and plain ; 
" Who is she, pray ? " I asked a friend, 

The red lipc r;~TC a curl — 
"Really ! I do not know her name, 

She's some one's servant girl." 

Again I saw her on the street 
With burden trudge along ; 

Her face was sweet and patient still, 
Amid the jostling throng; 

Slowly, but cheerfully she moved, 
Guarding, with watchful care, 



54 THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 

A market basket much too large 
For her slight hands to bear. 

A man, I'd thought a gentleman, 

Went pushing rudely by, 
Sweepmg the basket from her hands, 

But turning not his eye ; 
For there was no necessity, 

Amid that busy whirl, 
For him to be a gentleman 

To " some one's servant girL" 

Ah ! well it is that God above 

Looks in upon the heart, 
And never judges any one 

By just the outer part. 
For if the soul be pure and good, 

He will not mind the rest, 
Nor question what the garments were 

In which the form was dressed. 

And many a man and woman fair, — 

By fortune reared and fed, 
Who will not mingle here below. 

With those who earn their bread, 
When they have passed away from life, 

Beyond the gates of pearl. 
Will meet before their Father's throne 

With many a servant girl. 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 55 



Kind Hearted G-eorgre, 

A poor old man sat down to eat 

A little bit of bread and meat 

As Georgy Wright came up the street. 

His clothes were torn, his head was bare, 
The wind it blew his long white hair, 
As cold and friendless he sat there. 

" Poor man," said Georgy with a sigh, 
" I feel that I could almost cry, 
You look so thin ; I fear you'll die." 

The old man raised his head to hear 
Kind words that thrilled his heart and ear, 
But down his cheek there rolled a tear. 

" Alas ! " he said, " If I could see 
The gentle boy that speaks to me, 
How very happy I should be ! 

" For dark to me the world has been. 

And I have never, never seen 

A tree, or flower, or meadow green. 

" How often have I wished to view 
My mother's face ; the skies of blue ; 
And now I long to look on you." 



56 THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 

" Poor man," said Georgy Wright, "don't cry, 
But ^raj to God that when you die, 
Your soul may go to Him on high. 

" There you will see, without a tear, 
Far better things than we do here, 
And, oh i perhaps your mother dear." 

The winning words of this dear child 
Such comfort gave, the old man smiled 
And felt his heavy grief beguiled. 



"What the Sparrow Chirps. 

I am only a little sparrow, 

A bird of low degree ; 
My life IS of little value. 

But the dear Lord careth for me. 

He gave me a coat of feathers, 

It is very plain, I know, 
With never a speck of crimson, 

For it was not made for show. 

But it keeps me warm in Winter, 
And it shields me from the rain : 

Were it bordere'd with gold or purple. 
Perhaps- it would make me vain. 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 57 

And now that the Spring-time cometh, 

I will build me a little nest, 
With many a chirp of pleasure, 

In the spot I like the best. 

I have no barn or storehouse, 

I neither sow nor reap ; 
God gives me a sparrow's portion, 

But never a seed to keep. 

If my meal is sometimes scanty. 

Close picking makes it sweet ; 
I have always enough to feed me. 

And " life is more than meat." 

I know there are many sparrows ; 

All over the world we are found. 
But our heavenly Father knoweth 

When one of us falls to the ground. 

Though small we are never forgotten ; 

Though weak, we are never afraid ; 
For we know that the dear Lord keepeth 

The life of the creatures He made. 

I fly through the thickest forest, 

' I light on many a spray ; 
I have no chart nor compass. 
But I never lose my way. 



58 THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 

And I fold my wings at twilight, 
Wherever I happen to be ; 

For the Father is always watching, 
And no harm will come to me. 

I am only a little sparrow, 

A bird of low degree ; 
.But I know the Father loves me, — 

Have you less faith than me ? 



Smile Whene'er You Can. 

When things don't go to suit you, 

And the world seems up-side down, 
Don't waste your time in fretting, 

But drive away that frown ; 
Since life is oft perplexing. 

It is the wisest plan 

To bear all trials bravely. 
And smile whene'er you can ! 

Why should you dread to-morrow 
And thus spoil your to-day ? 

For when you borrow trouble 
You always have to pay. 

It is a good old maxim, 

Which should be often p cached, — 

DonH cross the bridge before you 
Until the bridge is reached I 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 59 

You might be spared much sighing, 

If you would keep in mind 
The thought, that good and evil 

Are always here combined. 
There must be something wanting 

And tho' you roxl m wealth, 
You may miss from your casket, 

The precious jewel — Health ! 

And tho' you're strong and sturdy 

You may have an empty purse ; 
(And earth has rr.iny trials 

Which I consider worse !) 
But whether joy or sorrow 

Fill up your mortal span, 
*T will make your pathway brighter 

To smile whene'er you can. 

— Kate Cameron* 



Idttle John Cray. 



" No one will see me ! " said little John Gay ; 
For his father and mother were both gone away, 

And he was at home all alone ; 
" No one will see me ! " so he climbed on a chair. 
And peeped in the pantry to spy what was there ; 

Wliicii you know he should not have done. 



60 THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 

There stood in the pantry, so sweet and so nice, 
A plate of plum-cake in full many a slice, 

And apples so ripe and so fine ; 
"Now, no one will see me ! " said John to himself 
As he stretched out his arm to reach on the shelf, 

" This apple, at least, shall be mine ! " 

John paused, and put back the nice apple so red ; 
For he thought of the words his kind mother had 
said, 
When she left all these things in his care ; 
" But no one will see me ! " thought he, " is not 

true ; 
For I've read that God sees us in all that we do, 
And is with us wherever Ave are." 

Well done ! Your kind father and mother obey ; 
Try ever to please them, and mind what they say, 

Even when they are absent from you ; 
And never forget, that though no one be nigh, 
You cannot be hid from the glance of God's eye, — 

For He notices all that you do. 



Deeds of Kindness. 



Suppose the little cowslip 
Should hang its golden cup, 

And say, " I'm such a tiny flower 
I'd better not grow up." 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 61 

How many a weary traveler 

Would miss its fragrant smell ! 
How many a little child would grieve 

To lose it from the dell ! 

Suppose the glistening dewdrop 

Upon the grass should say, 
" What can a little dewdrop do ? 

I'd better roll away." 

The blade on which it rested, 

Before the day was done, 
Without a drop to moisten it, 

Would wither in the sun. 

Suppose the little breezes. 

Upon a summer's day, 
Should think themselves too small to cool 

The traveler on his way. 

Who would not miss the smallest 

And softest ones that blow, 
And think they made a great mistake ■ 

If they were talking so ? 

How many deeds of kindness 

A little child may do, 
Although it has so little strength, 

And little wisdom too. 



62 THE YOUNG DECLAIIIEK. 

It wants a loving spirit, 

Much more than strength, to prove 
How many things a child may do 

For others by his love. 



The Bain. 

Millions of tiny rain drops 

Are falling all around 
They're dancing on the housetops, 

They're hiding in the ground. 
They are fairy -like musicians, 

With anything for keys, 
Beating time upon the windows-^ 

Keeping time upon the trees. 

A light and airy treble 

They play upon the stream, 
And the melody enchants us, 

Like the music of a dream. 
A deeper bass is sounding 

When they're dropping into caves. 
With a tenor for the zephyrs, 

And an alto from the waves. 

Oh, 'tis a storm of music, 
And Robins don't intrude 

If, when the rain is weary, 
They drop an interlude. 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 63 

It seems as if the warbling 

Of the birds in all the bowers, - 

Had been gathered into rain drops 
And was coming down in showers. 



The Life Clock. 



There is a little mystic clock, 

No human eye has seen, — 
That beateth on — that beateth on 

From morning until e'en ; 
And when the soul is wrapped in sleep, 

And heareth not a sound 
It ticks and ticks the livelong night, 

And never runneth down. 

O, wondrous is the work of art, 

Which knells the passing hour. 
But ne'er formed, nor mind conceived 

The life-clock's magic powfer. 
Nor set in gold, nor decked with gems, 

By pride and wealth possessed ; 
But rich or poor, or high or low, 

Each bears it in his breast. 

When life's deep stream, 'mid beds of flowers 

All still and sof Jy glides. 
Like a wavelet's step, with a gentle beat, 

It warns of passing tides. 



64 THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 

"WTien passion nerves the warrior's arm 
For deeds of hate and wrong, 

Though heeded not the fearful sound, 
The knell is deep and strong. 

When eyes to eyes are gazing soft, 

And tender words are spoken, 
Then fast an(>wild it rattles on. 

As if with love 't were broken. 
Such is the clock that measures life, 

Of flesh and spirit blended ; 
And thus 't will run within the breast. 

Till that strange life is ended. 



From the German, 



Think Before You Speak. 

A tale I will tell of a priest and his mare 

As they merrily trotted along to the fair. 

Of a creature more docile you never have heard ; 

In the height of her speed she would stop at 

word ; 
And again with a word, when the rider said " Hey, 
She would put forth her mettle, and gallop away. 



THE YOUNG DECL AIMER. 65 

As along a smooth lane he quietly rode, 

While the sun of September all brilliantly glowed, 

The good man discovered, with eyes of desire, 

A mulberry tree in a hedge of wild-brier. 

High upon the boughs hung the beautiful fruit ; 

Its large, glossy charms might have tempted a brute* 

The preacher was hungry, and thirsty to boot ; 
He dreaded the thorns, but he longed for the fruit. 
"With a word he arrested the courser's keen speed, 
Then stood up erect on the back of his steed. 
On the saddle he stood, \\hile the creature kept 

still, 
And he gathered the fruit till he'd eaten his fill. 

" Sure, never," said he, " was a creature so rare ! 
How docile, how true is this excellent mare ! 
See, here, I now stand," and he gazed all around, 
" As safe and as steady as if on the ground ; 
And yet how she'd fly, if some fellow this way, 
Not dreaming of mischief, should chance to say 
^Hey.'" 

He stood with his head in the mulberry tree ; 
And he spoke out aloud in the height of his glee ; 
At the sound of his " Hey," the mare made a push. 
And down went the priest in the dense brier-bush. 
He remembered too late, on his sharp, thorny bed, 
Much well may be thought, that should never be 
said. 



66 THE YOUKG DECLAIMER. 



All is Action, All is Motion. 

All is action, all is motion, 

In this mighty world of ours ; 

Like the current of the ocean, 
Man is urged by unseen powers ! 

SteadUy, but strongly moving, 

Life is onward evermore, 
Still the present age improving 

On the age that went before. 

Duty points, with outstretched fingers, 
Every soul to actions high ; 

Woe betide the soul that lingers ! — 
Onward ! onward ! is the cry. 

Though man's foes may seem victorious 
War may waste and famine blight, 

Still from out the conflict glorious 
Mind comes forth with added light ! 

O'er the darkest night of sorrow. 
From the deadliest field of strife, 

Dawns a clearer, brighter morrow, 
Springs a truer, nobler life. 

Onward, onward, onward ever ! 

Human progress none may stay ; 
All who make the vain endeavor. 

Shall like chaff be swept away. 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 67 



Yankee Doodle Junior. 

Once on a time old Johnny Bull 

Flew in a raging fiuy, 
And said that Jonathan should have 

No trials, sir, by jury ; 
That no election should be held, 

Across the briny waters ; 
" And now," said he, " I'll tax the tea 

Of all his sons and daughters." 

Then down he sat in burly state, 

And blustered like a grandee, 
And in derision made a tune 

Called " Yankee Doodle Dandy." 
" Yankee Doodle " — these are facts— * 

" Yankee Doodle Dandy ; 
My son of wax, your tea I'll tax — 

Yankee Doodle Dandy." 

John sent the tea from o'er the sea 

With heavy duties rated ; 
But whether hyson or bohea, 

I never heard it stated. 
Then Jonathan to pout began — 

He laid a strong embargo — 
" I'll drink no tea, by Jove ! " so he 

Threw overboard the cargo. 



68 THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 

A long war then they had, in which 

John was at last defeated — 
And " Yankee Doodle " was the march 

To which his troops retreated. 
Cute Jonathan to see them fly, 

Could not restrain his laughter ; 
" That tune," said he, " suits to a T, 

I'll sing it ever after." 

With " Hail Columbia ! " it is sung, 

In Chorus full and hearty — 
On land and main, we breathe the strain, 

John made for his tea-party. 
" Yankee Doodle — ho — ha — he — ! 

Yankee Doodle Dandy — 
We kept the tune but not the tea, 

Yankee Doodle Dandy ! " 



Try— Keep Trying*. 



Have your efforts proved in vain ? 
Do not sink to earth again ; 

Try — keep trjdng: 
They who yield can nothing do — 
A feather's weight will break them through ; 

Try — keep trying: 
On yourself alone relying, 
You will conquer ; try — keep trying. 



THE YOUNG DEC L AIMER. 69 

Falter not — but upward rise, 
Put forth all your energies : 

Try — keep trying : 
Every step that you progress 
Will make your future effort less : 

Try — keep trying : 
On the truth and God relying, 
You will conquer ; try — keep trying. 

Ponderous barriers you may meet, 
But against them bravely beat : 

Try — keep trying: 
Nought should turn you from the track 
Or turn you from your purpose back, 

Try — keep trying: 
On yourself alone relying, 
You will conquer ; try — keep trying. 

You will conquer if you try — 
Win the good before you die ; 

Try — keep trying : 
Remember — nothing is so true, 
As they who dare will ever do ; 

Try — keep trying : 
On yourself and God relying, 
You will conquer ; try — keep trying. 



70 THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 



Ambition, False and True. 

I would not wear the warrior's wreath, 
I would not court his crown ; 

For love and virtue sink beneath 
His dark and vengeful crown. 

I would not seek my fame to build 

On glory's dizzy height ; — 
Her temple is with water filled ; 

Blood soils her sceptre bright. 

I would not wear the diadem, 

By folly prized so dear ; 
For want and woe have bought each gem 

And every pearl's a tear. 

I would not heap the golden chest 

That sordid spirits crave ; 
For every grain by penury cursed, 

Is gathered from the grave. 

No ; let my wreath unsullied be, 

My fame be virtuous youth ; 
My wealth be kindness, charity,-— 

My diadem be truth I 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 71 

For Every One That Asketh. Recelveth. 

Oh, ask not wealth ; 

The gaudy bauble glitters to deceive 
It hath a thorn to press thee when asleep ; 
It maketh wings, and leaveth thee to weep — 

Ask not what wealth can give. 

Oh, ask not fame ; 

The empty bubble breaks at every gale ; 
Its mighty shadow stalks in midnight gloom ; 
It kills its hero, then it haunts his tomb, 

Where ali its triumphs fail. 

Oh, ask not love ; 

^' The fond heart's idol " breaketh the fond heart ; 
His smile is oft deceitful, and its power 
Too oft is felt in sorrow's darkest hour — 

Ask not liis treacherous dart • 

Oh, ask not power ; 

Seek not a burden that must crush thee down — 
Look at the thrones of tyrants in the dust, 
Behold how frail the prop in which they trust — 

Ask where their might has gone. 

Ask for a quiet mind ; 
A heart at rest from all the jars of strife— 
A humble heart that never soars to fall — 



72 thp: young declaimer. 

A heart to bless the Hand that gives its all — 
That priceless gift of life. 

Ask for a fount of tears; 

The heart to sympathize in other*s woe, 
The soul to feel for all the sorrowing here, 
And power to point them to a better sphere, 

Where tears can never flow. 

Ask for a home in heaven. 
Poor, lonely wanderer on life's troubled sea. 
When wealth and fame and power are wrecked and 

gone, 
And all earth's blandishments forever flown — 
Ask for a home in heaven, where grief .can never 
be. 



Sowing" and Reapingr. 



Go and sow beside all waters, 

In the morning of thy youth, 
In the evening scatter broadcast 

Precious seeds of living truth. 
For though much may sink and perish, 

In the rocky, barren mold, 
And the harvest of thy labor 

May be less than thirty fold— 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 73 

Let thy hand be not withholden, 

Still beside all waters f ow : 
For thou knowest not which shall prosper, 

Whether this or that will grow. 
"While some precious portions scattered, 

Growing well and taking root, 
Shall spring up and grow and ripen 

Into never dying fi-uit. 

Therefore sow beside all waters, 

Trusting, hoping, toiling on; 
When the fields are white with harvest, 

God will send his angel down: — 
And thy soul may see the value 

Of its patient morns and eves. 
When the everlasting garner 

Shall be filled with precious sheaves. 



Something" Still To Do. 

Though the day has nearly past 

Sit not down with idle hands. 
Labor while the hours shall last. 

While shall flow Life's golden sands ; 
Life is changeful, ever brief. 

Oh ! improve each fleeting span, 
Turn, each day, some brighter leaf; 

Measure Time by deeds to man. 



74 THE YOUNG DECLAIMER, 

Knows*t thou not some burdened soul 

Fettered by disease and pain ? 
Point to him the heavenly goal, 

Bid him rise and strive again, 
Knows't thou not a drooping heart 

Sinking 'neath misfortune's blight ? 
Go, and friendship's warmth impart^ 

Give to him a ray of light. 

We are not to know the way 

God shall work Life's problem out ; 
Let us labor while we may^ 

Trusting Him, nor have a doubt. 
And with love for all mankind, 

Resting not till life be through, 
Let us work, when we shall find 

Something still for us to do ! 

Dexter Smith, 



Boys' and Girls' RigrlitS' 

In every land and continent 

Good people bear in mind. 
How much is said about the rights 

Of men and womenkind ; 
And though we're present everywhere. 

And make a deal of noi:*e. 
There's very little said about 

The rights of girls and boys. 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER, 75 

We want the right to use our eyes 

And take in every sight, 
To see, compare, and measure facts, 

The length, and breadth, and height. 
We want the right to use our tongues, 

And keep them busy, too, 
In asking questions every day. 

And have them answered true. 

When we do wrong, we want the right 

To claim a day of grace, 
A household jury, if you will, 

To sit upon our case. 
And not be punished for our faults 

With sudden words and blows. 
Enough to di-ive the goodness out 

Through fingers and through toes. 

We want to be respected, too, 

And not be snubbed outright. 
And put off with a careless word. 

Because we are small and slight. 
And when we take the Ship of State, 

And throw by childish toys, 
We'll make a law to regulate 

The rights of girls and boys. 



PART IL-PROSE. 



-«-*^ 



Goodness of God. 

Let US consider the faculties of man, and see how 
many and how great are the pleasures which may- 
be derived from them. Jn the family, what enjoy- 
ment do parents find in the love and care they 
bestow upon the^r children, — and how sweet and 
joyous is the affection which children feel towards 
their parents. How pleasant, too, is the love of 
brothers and sisters, of relations and friends. 

And then, let us reflect upon the beauty that is 
spread over the face of nature. Why are flowers 
so beautiful and so greatly variegated if not to give 
pleasure to man? Why, if God is not benevolent, 
has he made hills, and valleys, and rolling waves, 
and rushing waters so beautiful? Why has He 
made the forms and motions of birds so charming, if 
not to give pleasure to man ? If the Creator did 
not intend to delight us, why did He spread sublim- 
ity over the mountains and teach man to feel it ? 
Why did he robe the heavens in azure, and make a 
myriad race of beings to feel their majesty and 

(76) 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 77 

beauty ? Why did He clothe all vegetable nature 
in green, and make human beings with eyes to rel- 
ish it above all other hues? Why did He teach 
the birds to sing, the waters to murmur forth melody, 
the trees to bend, in beauty and grace, to the pres- 
sure of the breeze ? Why, if God is not a good 
being, — did he make this world so pleasant, endow 
it with light, and color, and music, and perfumes, 
and. place beings here adapted to the appreciation 
and enjoyment of these things ? Surely our Heav- 
enly Father, — God, — who made all things, is infin- 
itely wise, and great, and good, and we should ever 
seek to love and obey Him, — For "in liim we live, 
and move, and have our being." 



The Flowers. 

When we walk into the fields, how many flowers 
we behold ! Some spring up in the grass, looking 
like little stars ; — some twine in the hedge, and some 
hang from trees and plants. 

,How pleasant it is to see them with their bright 
and beautiful colors, — red and blue, yellow and 
white. Some are round like caps ; some are shaped 
like a ball ; some stand up erect, and others hang 
their heads, — but all are beautiful, and bespeak the 
power, and wisdom and goodness of our Creator. 

And then while they look so fair and bright, 
how sweet is their fragrance ! The air is full of 



78 THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 

their sweets, and the bees hum around them and sip 
honey from their rosy lips. 

Why did God make the flowers and give to them 
such bright colors and such sweet odors ? Was it 
not for our happiness ? 

He might have made them dull and ugly in ap- 
pearance, and offensive in smell, — so that they 
would Lave given us pain instead of pleasure. But 
God is good, and he wished to make us happy and 
so he made the flowers lovely and bright. 

As the sun shines upon the flowers, so our Heav- 
enly Father will smile upon us when we do right, 
and try to make all about us happy. 

As flowers turn towards the sun all day and seem 
to follow him in his course, so should we let our 
hearts turn to the God who made us, — for he is our 
bright Sun, and without him w^e should fade away 
and die. 



The Clouds. 

How beautiful, often, are the clouds at morni 
As the sun's rays tinge them they look like ruby 
gems set around with gold, and the lark mounts 
towards them and sings as if he were at Heaven's 
gate. 

And at noon how bright and beautiful are the 
clouds as, high in the sky, they float and show their 
pearly whiteness in the blue sky. 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 79 

But at sunset the clouds are most beautiful of all, 
and in the far west, assume a great variety of forms 
and hues. At night, when the moon shines on 
them, they look soft, and fair, and Avljite, and pure, 
— and sometimes, wlien all is hushed and still, they 
seem like a flock of little lambs asleep. 

Yet, what are these beautiful clouds but vapors ! 
IIow soon they change and pass away ! 

The life of man is like a cloud — ever fleeting and 
changing ; to-day it is gay and bright, — to-morrow 
dark, and full of gloom : — and yet again the sun's 
bright rays shine when it is all bright and cheerful, 

As the sun gives to the clouds their beauty and 
brightness — gilding them with his beauty — so the 
smiles of our Heavenly Father cheer and bless tlie 
life of man. 

It is He who gives to life's morning its bright 
joys ; it is He who sustains and exalts us in man- 
hood ; in the storm and daikness of life, He smiles 
ujjon u^, like a rainbow, full of hope and promise; 
and when death comes, if we will trust him, He will 
take us safely over death's cold stream, and give us 
a secure abode in the " house of many mansions." 



Autumn. 
The autumn, with its ripening fruits, and waving 
harvests, is now with us. We see on every hand 
the results of the farmer's toil and forecast in the 



80 THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 

spring-time. Then it was that he broke up the soil, 
sowed the seed* pruned his trees, and guarded the 
tender phmts Now, we see the ripening crops. 
The trees are bending with the golden fruit, and 
abundance rewards the farmer's toil. 

]^ut suppose the farmer had not improved the 
spring time, and left the soil unturned, the seed un- 
sown, the trees untrimmed, and everything neglect- 
ed ; what woidd now be the result ? We should see 
nothing but barren fields, overrun with weeds and 
briars ; and tiie farmer would fe»l tliat a winter of 
want and distiess was before him. 

And let us rememlier that the autumn of life will 
come on apace ; and that w hat we now sow, we 
shall then r(^ap. If we would reap an abundant 
harvest, and gather pre ious fruit, and secuie an 
autumn of pleny and prosperity, we must now, in 
the spring-time of life, be diligent and careful in the 
culti\ ation of our hearts. AVe must form only those 
habits wh'ch will produce good fruits. Our acts 
must be nob'e, our thoughts and our words must be 
purC; our feelings must be kind. Above all we 
must seek the aid of our Heavenly Father, and con- 
stantly aim to cultivate good habits. As we now 
sow, we shall then reap. If we " sow to the wind, 
we shall reap the whirlwind." 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 81 

Perseverance. 

" Try again," is a very useful maxim to old and 
young, rich and poor ; and great results will come 
from putting this short rule into practice. 

We would not give a fig for the boys and girls 
who sit pining and whining over an example in 
arithmetic, or a lesson in grammar that seems to be 
more difficult than common. If they will only go 
to work in earnest and " keep trying," all will come 
out right. 

Let us learn a lesson from Columbus, the discov- 
erer of America. When he first set sail, what dif_ 
ficulties he met with, and how often was he disap- 
pointed in his expectations ! Day after day he tried 
and " tried again," and by pei severance he finally 
found the wished-for land. 

But let us not forget that we may make a bad use 
of a good maxim, just as we may of anything else 
that is good. Many people have made a bad use of 
our maxim " Try again." 

A man once made a rash leap over a large log 
and injured his leg. He was angry, and said, 
*'What a fool I was to hurt me. I will 'try again.'" 
He did try again, and injured himself for life. 

From this let us learn that we should "try again" 
only when the thing we wish to do is really worth 
doing. Let us think well of what we undertake, 
and if our aim is a good one, let us "try again and 
again," if necessary, until we finally succeed. 



82 THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 

The TongTie. 

Every child has in his mouth a thing to talk Avith, 
called the tongue. It was made to speak the truth 
with, and when it tells a falsehood it does that 
which is very wrong. 

The tongue was made to speak kind and pleasant 
words, and when it utters unkind and harsh words 
it is a naughty tongue. 

When the tongue says disobedient words to a 
father or mother, it is a wicked tongue, and when it 
speaks angrily to a brother or a sister, it is a very 
bad tongue indeed. 

When the tongue uses profane, or impure words, 
it does that which our Heavenly Father has ex- 
pressly forbidden. 

And now, schoolmates, as we all have this tongue, 
let us ask ourselves what sort of an article it is. 
Does it always speak the truth ? Does it always 
utter pure, and good words ? 

We are told in the Bible that the tongue is an 
unruly member, and let us strive earnestly to keep 
it in subjection, — and may it never be allowed to 
speak unkindly of any one, nor may it ever utter 
profane or impure words. If the heart is kept 
pure the tongue will be pure also. 



Rivers. 

Rivers have their rise in little rills which gush 
from the sides of mountains and hills. Several of 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 83 

these unite and form a stream ; and these streams 
form rivulets, and rivulets form rivers, which often 
run for many hundred miles, making the land upon 
their banks fertile. 

When a river descends from high land to that 
which is lower, it often falls over rocks and is called 
a cascade, or, if very large, a citaract. Some of 
these are so large that their roaring noise may be 
heard for several miles. 

Some rivers overflow their banks at certain sea- 
sons, and thus tend to make the land productive. 
The river Nile, in Egypt, overflows its banks and 
leaves a rich deposit, and very large crops of rice 
and grain are produced from the land. Rivers are 
very numerous and very useful. 

Our lives may be compared to a river. The lit- 
tle stream is like a child, and plays among the flow- 
ers of a meadow; it waters a garden, or turns a 
child's mimic mill wheel. As it flows on it gathers 
strength, and like a child, it sometimes becomes tur- 
bulent and impatient. Sometimes, like a bad man, 
it causes destruction and loss wherever it goes, and 
becomes the terror of all. But oftentimes it flows 
quickly along, and, like a good man, proves a bless- 
ing in all its course. 

Schoolmates, let it be our aim to resemble the 
river whose waters are for the good of mankind. 
Let our lives be so ordered that we may ever do 
good, and wherever we move may we cause happi- 



84 THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 

ness and joy to go with us : — ever looking to pro- 
mote the welfare of others. Thus shall we secure 
the blessing and favor of our Father in Heaven. 



Winter. 

Cold, bustling, stormy winter is coming. The 
leaves have already fallen from the trees ; the pretty 
flowers have withered ; the birds have flown to 
warmer climes ; the squirrels have gone to their 
nests, and soon the ground will be covered with 
snow, and the streams and ponds will be frozen 
over. 

The farmer has gathered his hay and vegetables ; 
the cattle are no longer upon the hills and in the 
valleys ; the woodman's axe rings through the forest 
as he cuts the trees to supply the blazing fire. Out 
of doors all is dreary and cold. 

But let it not be so within doors. Let us do 
what we can to make our homes pleasant and hap- 
py. Let us try to do sometliing to assist the dear 
parents who do so much for us. Let us be kind to 
all, and ever seek to promote the happiness of 
others. 

And while our hearts are thankful to our Heav- 
enly Father for all the comforts we enjoy, may we 
constantly seek to do good to others, and to cheer 
those who are less fortunate than we. 

Let us aim so to improve the spring-tiijie of life 



TFIE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 85 

that its summer and autumn may abound in good 
fruits, and its winter be peaceful and happy. 



Words of Advice. 

Dear Schoolmates ; — Will you allow me to give 
you a few words of advice, and if you will heed 
them I am confident you will never regret it. 

Rise early, and render your thanks to the Giver 
of all good. Enter steadily and fearlessly upon the 
duties of the day. Be determined that no trial shall 
overcome your patience, and no impediment with- 
stand your perseverance. If the object be worthy 
your efforts, let no obstacle prevent its attainment. 

Never be found without an object. Ask your- 
self how you can do the most good ; and, when you 
have decided, throw your whole soul into your pur- 
po-e. Never do good merely to obtain praise. 
Take a red hot iron in your hand, rather than a dis- 
honest penny. 

Do no bad action to serve a good friend. Be 
indulgent to others' faults ; but implacable to your 
own. Wage war with every evil passion, and give 
no quarter. Die for the truth, rather than live to 
uphold a lie. Never court needless danger, nor fly 
fi'om a peril which duty imposes. 

Read good books, select good companions, attend 
to good counsel, and imitate good examples. Never 
give way to despondency. Does the sun shine? 



86 THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 

Rejoice. Is it covered with a cloud? Wait till 
the cloud has passed away. 

Endeavor to add daily to your stock of useful 
knowledge ; see that your principles and your prac- 
tice are equal to your attainments. 

Your deportment toward others is the standard 
by which they will estimate your character. Be 
attentive, therefore, to your manners. Those are 
the best manners that raise you in the opinion of 
others, without sinking you in your own. 

In all your intercourse with others, be kind and 
courteous, and you will not fail to win their respect 
and esteem. 

If you wish to become good and wise men, you 
must begin while you are young, or you will never 
beijin at all. 



Be Busy. 
There is no better motto for us than this, — " Be 
bu>y." The young man who resolves in his youth 
to be always busy, will make his mark in the world. 
The idler never does anything ; it is by the indus- 
trious, the ever busy hands and minds, that great 
deeds are done ; and the more a man does, the more 
he may do. The mind grow^ by thought and study ; 
by exercise, the mental, as well as the physical pow- 
ers become stronger. Our country is noted for its 
self-made men ; and why are they such ? How came 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 87 

our lamented President Lincoln to occupy the 
Chair of State ? He was a poor boy, without the 
means that many enjoy to become learned and 
great — with nothing but willing hands and a brave 
heart to make his mark in the world. These he 
possessed ; and, with economy, industry, and perse- 
verance, he broke down every opposing barrier, and 
wrote his name high on the pinnacle of fame. 
What he has done, others may do. Men are not 
born great in republican America. Americans 
must work out their own greatness ; and activity in 
body, in mind, in everything, is required to do it. 

The world wants just such men to live in it, — 
men of nerve, action, enterprise. Idlers and drones 
are out of place in a business world. The heavens 
and the earth were never intended for their habita- 
tion ; let them die out ! Be wide awake in spirit 
and in truth, is the true doctrine. The journey is 
before us, and if we die, we must let death overtake 
us scaling the rugged heights above, rather than 
find us wallowing in the mire beneath. 



Time. 

There are some insects which live but a single 
day. In the morning they are born ; at noon they 
are in full life, and at evening they die. The life 
of man is, in some respects, similar to that of these 



88 THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 

insects. It is true he may live for years, but the 
tinie is so short, and so uncertain, that every mo- 
ment is of some value. Our life may be compared 
to a journey. As every step of the traveler brings 
him nearer to his journey's end, so every tick of the 
clock takes us nearer to the end of life. 

The life of man, like that of the insect, may be 
divided into tluee parts : youth, or morning ; mid- 
dle age, or noon; and old age, or evening. In 
youth, we get our education, and lay up those stores 
of knowledge which are to guide and assist us in 
the journey of life. As this journey is of import- 
ance, we should be busy in preparnig f )r it. As it 
can be made once only, let us try to make it well. 
Let us see to it that the hours allotted to study or 
business are not spent in mere idleness. Middle 
age is the time for action, and in youth we should 
lay up knowledge, and gain wisdom that we may 
act well and wisely our part in later years. Youth 
properly improved, and middle age well spent, will 
tend to prepare us for old age and for the life 
beyond the grave. Then, schoolmates, let us all 
strive to be faithful in the performance of all the 
duties that devolve upon us, and thus gain the good 
will of our Heavenly Father. 



The Echo. 
A little boy, whose name was George, as yet 
knew nothing of the echo. On one occasion, when 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMEK. 89 

left alone in the meadow, he cried out loudly, " O ! 
O ! " when he was directly answered from the hill 
close by, " O ! O !" Surprised to hear a voice with- 
out seeing any person, he cried out, " Who are 
you?" The voice replied, "Who are you?" He 
then screamed out, " You are a silly fellow," and 
"silly fellow" was answered back from the hill. 

This only made George more angry, and he went 
on calling the person, whom he thought he heard, 
nicknames, which were all repeated exactly as he 
uttered them. He then went to look for the boy, 
in order to strike him ; but he could find no one. 
So he ran home, and told his mother that an impu- 
dent fellow had hid himself behind the trees on the 
hill, and called him nicknames. Having explained 
to his mother what had taken place, she said to him, 
"George, my boy, you have deceived yourself; you 
have heard nothing but the echo of your own words ; 
f you had called out a civil word towards the hill, 
a civil word would have been given back in return." 
" O," said George, " I will go down to morrow and 
say good words, and get good words from the echo." 

" So it is," said the mother, '• in life, with boys 
and girls, and men and women. A good word gen- 
erally produces a good word, or, as the wise man 
said, ' a soft answer turneth away wrath.' If we 
smile on tlie world, the world will smile on us ; if 
we give frowns, we shall h^ve frowns in return. K 



90 THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 

we are uncivil or unkind towards others, we cannot 
expect anything better from them." 



A Psalm. 

The heavens declare the glory of God ; and the 
firmament showeth his handy- work. Day unto day 
uttereth speech, and night unto night showeth knowl- 
edge. There is no speech nor language, where 
their voice is not heard. 

Their line is gone out through all the earth, and 
their words to the end of the world. In them hath 
he set a tabernacle for the sun, which is as a bride- 
groom coming out of his chamber, and rejoiceth as 
a strong man to run a race. His going forth is 
from the end of the heaven, end his circuit unto the 
ends cf it ; and there is nothing hid from the heat 
thereof. 

The law c'f the Lord is perfect, converting the 
soul; the testimony of the Lord is sure, making 
wise the simple. The statutes of the Lord are right? 
rejoicing the heart ; the commandment of the Lord 
is pure, enlightening the eyes. 

The fenr of the Lord is cban, enduring forever ; the 
judgment^5 of the Lord are true and righteous alto- 
gether. ]\Iore to be desired are they than gold, yea 
than much fine gold ; sweeter also than honey an d the 
honey comb. Moreover: ly them is thy servjmt 
warned : and in keeping of them there is great reward* 



THE YOUNG DECL AIMER. 91 

Who can understand his errors ? cleanse then rie 
from secret faults. Keep l)ack thy servant also 
from presumptuous sins ; let them not have domin- 
ion over me : then shall I be upright, and I shall be 
innocent from the great transgression. 

Let the vi^ords of my mouth, and the meditation 
of my heart, be acceptable in thy sight, O Lord, my 
strength, and my redeemer. 



Address of "Welcome. 

Dear Parents and Friends : — In behalf of 
my teachers and sihoolmates, I bid yon a . cordial 
w^elcome to our pleasant school-room. Here we are 
wont to meet, from day to day, and spend many 
hom's in attending to those lessons which will pre- 
pare us to discharge usefully the duties of life. We 
have spent some of our happiest hours in this room, 
and have only to regret that we have not been more 
diligent, and more attentive to our duties as mem- 
bers of this school. With this regret for errors of 
the pa>t, we feel a strong determination better to 
improve the future, so that each passing moment 
shall bear with it a good record. 

To your attention cind kindness we feel greatly 
indebted for the privileges we here enjoy, and we 
trust that we feel truly grateful. We have mvifed 
you to meet us here, with the hope that an hour 
may be spent which shall be mutually interesting 



92 tHl^: young decl aimer. 

and profitable. In judging of the exercises to which 
you may now listen, we beg that 

" You'll not vie.v us with a critic's eye, 
But pass our imperfections by." 

We wish you to remember that we are but chil- 
dren, and that childhood's errors will probably mark 
our performances. We will try to feel that we sue 
surrounded by our dearest friends, and if we shall, 
in any degree, succeed in causing the time to pass 
in a manner agreeable to you, we shall feel amply 
paid for all our efforts. 

For myself, for my teachers, and for these my 
companions, I tender you heartfelt and sincere 
thanks for all past acts of favor and kindness. 
E-pecially would we remember, with grateful feel- 
ings, those who have devoted so much time and 
manifested so much interest for our good, — the 
school CO nmittee. We hope no one of them will 
ever have occasion to feel that he has been dishon- 
ored by the dishonorable acts of any pupil of this 
school. 

We have been placed under weighty obligation, 
and we feel that much may justly be expected of us. 
That we may properly appreciate and improve our 
privileges, so that we may become intelligent, useful, 
and valuable members of society, we bespeak your 
continued care and watchfulness ; and, in return for 
them, we will endeavor so to improve our time and 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 93 

opportunities as to deserve and secure your hearty 
approbation. 



Don't G-ive Up. 



If we would ever accomplish anything in life, let 
us not forget that we must persevere. If we would 
learn our lessons in school, we must be diligent and 
not give up whenever we come to anything difficult. 
We shall find many of our lessons very hard, but 
let us consider that the harder they are the more 
good they will do us if we will persevere and learn 
them thoroughly. 

But are there not some in our school who are 
ready to give up when they come to a hard exam- 
ple in arithmetic, and say, " I can't do this ?" They 
never will if they feel so. " I can't," never did any- 
thing worth naming ; but " I'll try " accomplishes 
wonders. Let us remember that we shall meet 
with difficulties all through lile. They are in the 
pathway of every one. We shall surely find them 
in the school- room, but let them not dis'courage us. 
If we will only " try and keep trying," we shall be 
sure to conquer and overcome every difficulty we 
meet with. If we have a hard lesson to-day, let us 
strive to learn it well and then we shall be pre- 
pared for a harder one to-morrow. And if we learn 
to master hard lessons in school it v/ill prepare us 



94 THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 

to overcome the hard things that we shall meet in life, 
when our school clays are over. 

Therefore, schoolmates, let us never give up and 
feel discouraged because we cannot readily learn 
our lessons. 

" Falter not, — but upward rise ; — 
Put forth all your energies ; 
Try, — keep trying : 
Every step that you progress 

Will make your future efforts less : 
Try, — keep trying : 
On the truth and God relying, 

You will conquer ; try, — keep trying." 



A New Term. 

Deau Schoolmates, — We have just commenc- 
ed a new term of our school life, and we all hope 
it will be a pleasant and happy one. In order that 
it may so prove, let us not forget that much deiDcnds 
upon ourselves. We are assured that our kind 
teacher will do all in her power for our good, and 
that she will not ask vis to do anything unreason- 
able. 

Let us consider some of the things we must do, 
as members of this school, that our time may pass 
pleasantly and profitably. 

First, we must be regular in our attendance. If 
we should be often absent, Ave should fall behind 
our class, and lose all interest in our studies. 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 95 

We should strive to be at school, not only every 
day, but in season. The boy who is tardy in his 
attendance at school, will be very likely to be tardy 
in the performance of his duties when he becomes 
a man. 

Again, it should be our aim to be industrious at 
school and to learn all our lessons thoroughly and 
at the right time. Let our motto be, " Whatever 
is worth doing at all, is worth doing well." 

I v/ill name only one more duty, and that relates 
to our deportment. If we wish to do all we can 
for our own good and happiness, as well as for the 
good of our school and the happiness of our teacher, 
we must be very careful of our conduct, and see 
that we do nothing that will disturb the school or 
cause our teacher pain. 

I might call your attention to other particulars, 
but if you rightly observe what I have already 
named, there will be but little occasion for remind- 
ing you of other duties. 



Old Charlie. 
Old Charlie was a fine-looking horse, and very 
spirited, lie was a very strong, serviceable horse, 
too But with all his good qualities, Old Charlie 
had one very serious fault. When placed before a 
light load, he was all go-ahead, and it required a 
strong arm to keep him in check. But when it 



96 THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 

came to steady, hard work, then Old Charlie would 
shirks if he could get a chance. 

I remember once father had some lumber to be 
boated on the canal about twenty miles. Unable 
to find a boatman, he hired a boat and took liis own 
team, "Old Charlie and Bill," to do the towing, 
while I was driver. The horses were harnessed 
tandem, that is, one placed before the other, like 
most of the teams on the canal. Old Charlie being 
the hind or saddle-horse. For the first two or three 
miles he worked well, and then, finding it was steady, 
hard drawing, he took to his old habit of shirking, 
which was done so slyly that it was some little time 
before I discovered it. He appeared to be drawing 
hard all the time ; but as the boat moved slower 
than at first, and knowing Old Bill was honest and 
the fault was not with him, I began to urge Old 
Charlie along. 

Since that time, how often have I thought of Old 
Charlie when I have seen smart, active boys, and 
girls too, trying to evade hard study. Such schol- 
ars like easy lessons. Then they are sure to be 
the first to learn them. But when the lessons need 
hard study, then they seek to find some easier way 
to get along. At their seats they have their books 
open, and appear to be busy ; but they are only 
making believe. At recitation, too, how many ways 
they contrive to get along, and not have it appear 
that they know nothing about the lesson. If they 



I 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 97 

only made the same eiFort to learn that they do to 
shirk their lessons, they would succeed without any 
difficulty. 

Seems to me I hear some hoj or girl saying : 
" There, I have been acting just like Old Charlie ; 
I have been shirking the hard work." Is that so ? 
Then stop at once and take a new start. Press 
your shoulders right into the harness, and you may 
be sure the load will move steadily along ; and be- 
fore you know it your work will be done, and well 
done. — Child's Paper. 



The Bain-Drop. 

A little drop of rain fell into the opened leaves 
of a rose. It was a comfortable, cosy home for it. 
The bed on which it rested was soft as velvet, and 
the perfume of the rose was delightful. For awhile 
the little drop was as happy as could be. 

But by-and-by it grew tired of doing nothing. 
It is not right, thought the little drop, that I should 
be idle while there is so much to do. The buds are 
spreading their leaves to the sun. The vines are 
hanging out their tiny grapes. The birds are build- 
ing their nests, singing merrily wliile they work. 
The bees are flying to their hives with heavy loads 
of honey. Even the sunshine is warming every- 
thing mto life. But I, what shall 1 do ? I will 
wait and watch. The great and good God will find 



98 THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 

SGinething for the little drop of water to do in His 
own good timec See, there is a cloud, no bigger 
than a man's hand. Some of my brothers and sis- 
ters are sleeping ^n it. Perhaps they will join me 
in a little while, and we may all work together to 
do something useful for this beautiful earth.^' 

While it was speaking other clouds came up into 
the sky, until the heavens grew black with them. 
Then the rain fell merrily enough, and the little 
rain-drop hastened to join his brothers and sisters. 
Together they ran down the garden path, over the 
smooth sand, and then crept through the hedge and 
over the grass of the meadow, until, with a glad 
laugh, they leaped down into a brook, and sped 
away toward the sea. Even here the little rain- 
drop was not lost. It helped to water long miles 
of meadows and the roots of great trees in the for- 
est. It helped turn the wheels of huge mills and 
factories that gave work and food to thousands. 
And so tho little rain-drop was happy in doing good, 
— happier than when it nestled in the sweet, soft 
leaves of the rose. It became so strong that at 
last it swept out into the ocean to finish what it had 
to do. But as it went into the darkness it sang, 
"Happy is the little drop of water. The dear 
Lord did not make it for nothing. Work and sing i 
work and sing ! " 

Schoolmates, — God has something for us to do, 
—something higher and better than the duties of 



I 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 99 

the little rain-drop. Don't wait and sleep. Learn 

your duties and hasten to perform them. Then 
will you, in due time, find your reward. 



Help One Another. 

A traveler, who was crossing the Alps, was over- 
taken by a severe snow-storm. The cold became 
intense. The a'r was thick with sleet, and the pierc- 
ing wind seemed to penetrate into his bones. Still, 
for n, time, he struggled on. But at length his limbs 
became numb and a heavy drowsiness came upon 
him, and his feet almost refused to move, and he 
lay down to give way to the fatal sleep of death. 
But just at that moment he saw another poor trav- 
eler coming toward him whose condition was, if 
possible, worse than his own. 

When he saw this poor man, the traveler, who 
just before was about to fall asleep, made a great 
effort. He roused himself up and crawled, for he 
could not walk, to his fellow sufferer. He took his 
hands in his own, and tried to warm them ; he rub- 
bed his body and spoke words of cheer and com- 
fort. 

As he did this, the dying man began to revive ; 
his powers were restored, and he felt able to go 
forward. But this was not all ; — for his benefactor, 
too, wa-s recovered by the very efforts he had made 
to save his fellow-traveler. The exertion he had 



100 THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 

made caused the blood in his own body to circulate 
more freely. He grew warm while striving to warm 
the other. His drowsiness passed off, he no longer 
wished to ' sleep, his limbs recovered their strength, 
and the two travelers went together rejoicing on 
their way. Soon the storm ceased, and they reached 
their homes in safety. 

If we feel our hearts growing cold towards others 
and our souls almost perishing, let us do something 
which may help another soul to life and make it 
glad. We shall find this the best way to warm, re- 
store, and gladden our own souls. 



True Courage. 

True courage will make us fear to do wrong and 
dare to do right, — and, I am sorry to say, that many 
boys, as well as men, do not possess it. They fear 
more to face public opinion than to do wrong. 

Do not be ashamed, boys, if you have a patch on 
your jacket. It is no mark of disgrace. It cpeaks 
well for your kind and industrious mothers. For 
my part, I should rather see a dozen patches on 
your jacket, than to hear one profane or vulgar 
word escape from your lips, or to smell the per- 
fumes of tobacco in your breath. It is much better 
to have a patched jacket than to have a patched 
character. 

Kemember that no really good boy will shun you 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 101 

or think the worse of you because you cannot dress 
as well as some of your companions. If a bad boy 
laughs at you, let him laugh and pay no attention 
to him. He injures himself and not you. 

Many men, now rich, were once as poor as the 
poorest boy in this school. They were poor in 
property but not in character. 

Fear God and dare to do right. Be honest, be 
kind, be faithful, and you will find friends though 
your clothes may be covered with patches. Fear 
to do wrong and dare to do right under all circum- 
stances and in all places, and you may be sure of 
friends and success. 



Tlie Heavenly "World. 

The rose is sweet, but it is surrounded with 
thorns ; the lily of the valley is fragrant, but it 
springeth up amongst the brambles. 

The spring is pleasant, but it is soon past ; the 
summer is bright, but the winter destroyeth the 
beauty thereof. 

The rainbow is very glorious, but it soon vanish- 
eth away ; life is good, but it is quickly sw^allowed 
up in death. 

There is a land where the roses are without 
thorns, where the flowers are not mixed with bram- 
bles. 



102 THE YOUNG DECL AIMER. 

In that land there is eternal spring, and h'ght 
without any cloud. 

The tree of life groweth in the midst thereof; 
rivers of pleasures are there, and flowers that never 
fade. 

Myriads of happy spirits are there, and surround 
the throne of God with a perpetual hymn. 

The angels, with their golden harps, sing praises 
continually, and the cherubim fly on wings of fire. 

This country is Heaven ; it is the country of those 
that are good; and nothing that is wicked must 
inhabit there. 

Tliis earth is pleasant, for it is God's earth, and 
it is filled with many delightful things. 

But that country is far better ; there we shall not 
grieve any more, nor be sick any more, nor do 
wrong any more; there the cold of winter shall 
not wither us, nor the heats of summer scorch us. 



Gro-wth. 

Look at yonder spreading oak, with its massy 
trunk, and strong branches! Its roots strike deep 
into the earth. The birds build among the boiiglis ; 
the cattle repose beneath its shade. The old men 
point it out to their children, but they themselves 
remember not its growth. For nearly two hundred 
years it has withstood the wintry tempests. 

Yet that vast tree was once a Mttle acorn, — such 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 103 

as you may now find under its branches. All its 
massy trunk, all its knotted branchies, all its multi- 
tude of leaves were in* that little acorn. It grew 
and unfolded itself by degrees, and Is now a mighty 
tree. 

The mind of a child is like the acorn. Its pow- 
ers are folded up, and do not at once appear, — but 
they are all there. The mind of the wisest man 
now living was once like that of a little child. 

Instruction is the food of the mind. It is to the 
child what the dew, and the rain, and the rich soil 
were to the acorn. As the soil, and the rain, and 
the dew caused the acorn to grow and become a 
large tree, so do books and study feed the mind and 
cause it to expand and grow. 

The acorn might have perished in the ground, 
the young tree might have been bent and dwarfed ; 
— but if it grew it could not be anything but an oak. 

The child may become a foolish man, but, if he 
lives, he must become a man. What sort of a man 
he shall be, will depend upon the culture he receives, 
and the effort he makes. 

Then, schoolmates, let us cherish our precious 

■ minds, feed them with truth, and nourish them with 

knowledge. Our minds come from God. — made in 

His image. The oak may last for centuries, but 

our minds will endure forever. 



104 THE YOUNG DECLAIMEK, 



The World, 

How beautiful the world is! The green earth 
covered with flowers, the trees laden with rich blos- 
soms and foliage, the blue sky, and the bright water? 
and the golden sunshine, all are beautiful, and great 
must He be who made them all. 

It is a happy world. How the merry birds sing 
from tree to tree, and how the young lambs gambol 
on the hill-side. Even the trees wave, and the 
streams ripple in gladness. How joyfully - and 
proudly the eagle soars up to the glorious heavens. 

His throne is on the moimtain-topj 

His fields the boundless air, 
And hoary peaks, that proudly prop 

The skies — his dwellings are. 

He rises like a thing of light,, 

Amid the noontide blaze ; 
The mid day stm is clear and bright — 

It cannot dim his gaze. 

The world is indeed a happy world, if we will 
drink in happiness from the various sources of God's 
goodness and love. 

It is a great world. Look off upon the mighty 
ocean when the storm is upon it ; to the lofty moun- 
tain when the thunder and lightning play over it ; 
to the vast forests, to the sun, the moon, and myri- 
ad.^ of bright stars. Is it not indeed a great and 
wonderful world ? How great, and wise, and pow- 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMEK. 105 

erful must He be who made the world. He is 
truly the perfection of all loveliness, all goodness, 
all greatness, all gloriousness. 

Let us, dear schoolmates, love and obey this 
great and good Being, — for in Him we live, — from 
Him come all our blessings. 



The Sun and Wind. 
A FABLE. 

The Sun and Wind once fell into a dispute as to 
their relative power. The Sun insisted, as he could 
thaw the iceberg, and melt the snows of winter, and 
bid the plants spring out of the ground, and send 
light and heat over the world, that he was the most 
powerful. " It may be," said he, '• that you can 
make the loudest uproar; but I can produce the 
greatest effect. It is not always the noisiest people 
that achieve the greatest deeds." 

" This may seem very well," said the Wind, " but 
it is not just. Don't I blow the ships across the 
sea, turn windmills, drive the clouds across the 
heavens, get up squalls and thunder-gusts, and topple 
down steeples and houses, with hurricanes ?" 

Thus the two disputed, when, at last, a traveler 
was seen coming along ; and they agreed each to 
give a specimen of what he could do, and let the 
traveler decide between them. So the Wind began, 
and it blew lustily. It nearly took away the tray- 



106 THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 

eler's hat and cloak, and very much impeded his 
progress ; but he resisted stoutly. The Wind hav- 
ing tried its best, then came the Sun's turn. So he 
shone down with his summer beams, and the trav- 
eler found himself so hot that he took off his hat 
and cloaky and so decided that the Sun had more 
power than the Wind. 

Thus our fable shows that the gentle rays of the 
Sun were more potent than the tempest; and we 
generally find in life that mild means are more effec- 
tive, in the accomplishment of any object, than vio- 
lence. 



What I Like to See. 

I like to see a boy moving cheerfully towards the 
school, and quietly taking his proper place before 
the hour for opening school arrives. I think such 
a boy will make a prompt and faithful man. 

I like to see a boy in his place at school every 
day, and never allowing himself to be absent unless 
he is sick. I think such a boy will make a useful 
and reliable man. 

I like to hear a boy using kind and pleasant 
words to his companions. I think he will make a 
man whom all will be glad to meet and to regard as 
a friend. 

I like to hear a boy speaking respectfully and 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 107 

kindly of his teacher and parents. I feel that such 
a boy will make a good and noble-hearted man. 

I like to see a boy enter the schoolroom with 
clean face and hands, with nicely brushed hair, and 
with clothes and shoes free from dirt and dust. 
When a man, he will be neat and tidy. 

I like to see a boy who is ever ready to learn 
what his duties are, and ever anxious to perform 
them faithfully. I think such a boy will " act well 
his part " when he becomes a man. 

And now, dear schoolmates, I am sure you will 
agree with me in what " I like," and may I not 
hope that we shall all be found striving to do those 
things which will be well pleasing to our dear teach- 
er and parents, and above all to our good Father in 
Heaven. \* 

I like to see a boy who dares to do right, even 
though his companions laugh at, and ridicule him. 
I think such a boy will make a true man, — one al- 
ways to be trusted. Do not forget, schoolmates, 
that the highest kind of courage is that which 
makes you dare to do right. Then — 
Dare to think, though others frown ; 

Dare in words your thoughts express ; 
Dare to rise, though oft cast down ; 

Dare the wronged and scorned to bless. 
Dare forsake what you deem wrong ; 

Dare to walk in wisdom's way ; 
Dare to give where gifts belong ; 
Dare God's precepts to obey. 



108 THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 

Do what conscience says is right; 

Do what reason says is best ; 
Do with all your mind and might ; 

Do your duty, and be blest. 



What I Don't Like to See. 

I don't like to see a boy idly loitering on his way 
to school, and coming in after the proper hour for 
commencing. I think such a boy, if he lives to be 
a man, will always be a little late in all his duties. 

I don't like to see a boy sit idle in school and 
neglect the lessons required of him by his teacher. 
An idle boy will, very likely, make an idle and use- 
less man. 

I don't like to see a boy spend the precious hours 
of school in whispering and playing, and thus inter- 
rupting those who wish to learn. I think if he 
grows up he will make a troublesome neighbor. 

I don't like to see a boy come to school with Lis 
face unwashed, and his clothes and shoes covered 
with dirt. I always think such a boy will be a dis- 
agreeable companion, and an unwelcome visitor. 

I don't like to hear a boy using profane or im- 
proper language, for I fear he will, when older, fo)'m 
other bad habits, and become the associate of the 
lawless and wicked. 

I don't like to see a boy with a cigar in his 
mouth, and forming the habit of smoking. I fear 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 109 

that, when a man, he will be a slave to other had 
habits which will neither promote his own happiness 
nor add to the comfort of his friends. 

I don't like to hear a boy speak harshly or un- 
kindly to his companions. I think such a boy will 
become a rude and harsh man, — unworthy the friend- 
ship of the good. 

I don't like to see a boy trying to get his school- 
mates to help him perform his examples in arith- 
metic. I think he will be very apt to lean upon 
others for help all through life. 

I don't like to hear a boy speaking unkindly of 
his teacher or parents. T fear such a boy is lacking 
in those good traits which help to make a good man. 

And now I have told you of some of the things 
that I don't like, perhaps at some other time I will 
tell you of some of the things that I do like. 



Selfishness. 

There were once a dog and a cat sitting by a 
kitchen door, when the cook came out and threw 
several pieces of meat to them. 

They both sprung to get it, but the dog was the 
strongest, and so he drove the cat away, and ate all 
the meat himself. Tliis was selfishness ; by which 
I mean, that the dog cared only for himself. The 
cat wanted the meat as much as he did ; but he was 
the strongest, and so he took it all. 



110 THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 

But was this wrong? No, — because ihe dog 
knew no better. The dog has no idea of God, or 
of that beautiful golden rule of conduct, which 
requires us to do to others as we would have them 
do to us. The hymn says, — 

" Let dogs delight to bark and bite. 

For God hatli made them so ; 
Let bears and lions growl and fight. 

For 't is their nature to." 

But children have a different nature, and a differ- 
ent rule of conduct. Instead of biting and fighting, 
they are required to be kind and gentle to one 
another, and to all mankind. 

Instead of being selfish, like the dog, they are 
commanded to be just and charitable, by which I 
mean, that they should always give to others what 
is their due, and also give to others, if they can, 
what they stand in need of. 

If a child snatches from another what is not his, 
he is selfish, and very wicked. If a child tries, in 
any way, to get what belongs to another, he is self- 
ish, and is as bad as a thitf or a robber. Selfish- 
ness is caring only for one's self. It is a very bad 
thing, and every child should avoid it. A selfish 
person is never good, or happy, or beloved. 

How miserable should we all be, if every person 
was to care only for himself! Suppose children 
and grown-up people, were all to be as selfish as 
cats and dogs. What constant fighting there would 
be among them ! 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. Ill 

How dreadful would it be to s^e brothers and 
sisters snarling at each other, and pulling each oth- 
er's hair, and quarreling about their food, and their 
playthings ! We ought to be thankful that God 
has given us a higher nature than that of beasts, 
and enabled us to see and feel the duty of being 
kind and affectionate to one another. 

And as we can see and feel this duty, we ought 
to be very careful always to observe it. 



The Squirrel. 

The more we examine the works of nature, the 
more we shall be made to feel that there is infinite 
variety m them — that almost every part of the uni- 
verse is filled with inhabitants appropriate to it; 
and that each individual thing is fitted to the place 
it occupies. Among plants, for instance, there are 
nearly a hundred thousand kinds already recorded 
in the books of the botanists ; among animated 
beings, there are, perhaps, even a greater number 
of species. And what a countless number of each 
individual kind, whether in the vegetable or animal 
world ! Every part of the earth is occupied. The 
earth, the air, the sea — each and all are inhabited 
by myriads of living things. And how wonderfully 
are they all adapted to their several designs ! How 
well is the fish fitted to his element ; how admirably 
is the bird adapted to the life he is to lead ! 



112 THE YOUNG DECL AIMER. 

Among quadrupeds, the lively little fellow, whose 
name we have selected for our theme, is a pleas- 
inor ilUistratioii of the success with which nature 
accomplishes her designs. The squirrel is made to 
enliven the forest, to live among woods, to gather 
his food, and make his nest, and spend a great part 
of his life amid the branches of the trees. And 
how perfectly is he at home in his domain ! He 
springs from limb to limb — from tree to tree ; he 
ascends or descends the trunk at pleasure, and 
seems to be as safe in his airy evolutions, as the ox, 
or the horse, upon the solid giound — or the bird m 
the air, or the fishes in the river. 

How perfect an instance of adaptation is this! 
How nice must be a piece of machinery tliat could 
be made to operate with such celerity, in such a 
variety of ways, and with such certain success ! 
And how pleasing, as an object of mere beauty, is 
the squirrel ! How graceful his form — how cheer- 
ful his aspect — how seemingly happy his existence! 



Our Conduct and Influence. 
Not only for our own sakes, but on account of all 
with whom we associate, it is our duty to take great 
care of our habits. The general principle which 
should lead us to do this is, that we cannot live for 
ourselves alone. We must think of others ; we 
must speak and act with them in our minds. And 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 113 

we are bound to form such habits as shall tend to 
their good — to make us useful in the world. We 
must, in a word, deny ourselves. If, while we are 
cliildren, we take pleasure in giving a part of what 
we enjoy, be it only a bunch of flowers, or an apple, 
to one of our schoolmates, we shall thus prepare 
ourselves to make others good and happy, when we 
come to manhood. But a selfish habit will be very 
hard to change hereafter. 

We should form the habit of associating with 
good persons. A lad may have many pleasant 
things about him; he may be witty, or bold, or 
smart ; but, if he is coarse in his manners — if he is 
vulgar, profane, or addicted to falsehood, we should 
shua his company. We are apt to become like those 
wdth whom we freely associate ; and although we 
do not mean to imitate their faults, and do not think 
there is any danger of it, yet we may soon fall into 
the same bad habits. To be safe, therefore, we 
should never trust ourselves unnecessarily with any 
but good people. 

You may think it will be easy to break away 
from the company and acquaintance of a boy, when 
you find him to be very bad ; but it will not be so. 
Many have been ruined for life by the friendships 
they have formed with vicious children, while at 
school with them. They continued to associate with 
them, and caught their vices in youth, and even up 
to manhood. If we wish to do good in the world, 



114 THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 

we must be good ; and we cannot be good, if we are 
very intimate with bad persons. 

It is our duty habitually to speak well of others. 
AYe are accustomed to do the opposite of this — to 
say all the bad things of others which we think the 
truth will allow. This is wrong. A little boy once 
said to his mother— -" When will the-e ladies be 
gone, so that we can talk about them ?" And what 
was to be said about those ladies ? Probably the 
family were in the habit of speaking of the faults of 
their visitors. If there was anything that could be 
ridiculed in their dress or their remarks, then was 
the time to discuss it. 

Now, we all know the power of habit ; and if we 
could on^y learn to think what good things we could 
say of others, and keep all that was bad to our- 
selves, what an immense improvement there would 
be among school-children, and in the whole world ! 
It is our duty to love all men; let us, therefore, try 
to speak well of all, and we shall soon love them. 
If we talk much against them, we cannot love 
them. 






Punctuality. 

We should practice punctuality for the sake of 

others, as well as ourselves. He who is punctual, 

will accomplish far more in a day than he who is 

not so. Washington was remarkable for this vir- 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 115 

tue. He once rode into Boston without any escort, 
because the soldiers were not punctual to meet him 
on the line at the time they promised. His mother 
taught him, when a boy, to have certain hours for 
every employment, and to do everything at the 
appointed time. This habit helped, in his after life, 
to make him a good man. He was able to do what, 
without it, he never could have done. 

We injure others by a neglect of punctuality. A 
girl says to herself — " It is a little too cold, or a lit- 
tle too warm, to go to school to-day;" or — "I feel 
a slight headache;" and so she remains at home. 
Now, she thus not only loses all she might that day 
have learned, but gives her teacher trouble. He 
must note her absence, and when the time comes 
for a recitation the next day, she is behind her class, 
and gives him and them further trouble. We ought 
never to say — " It is only once — I will not do so 
again;" and think thus to excuse ourselves; for, 
from the force of habit, the oftener we are tardy, or 
otherwise fail in our duty, the more frequently shall 
we be likely to do so, and the more injury shall we 
do others, of course, by this fault. So that, on every 
account, we should be punctual. 

If we form the habit of punctuality at school, it 
will be of great advantage to us in after life. Let 
us not forget that the punctual boy will be likely 
to make a punctual and faithful man. 



116 THE YOUNG DECLAIMEE. 



Q-ood Advice. 

" Take care of the minutes, and the hours will 
take care of themselves," is an admirable remark, 
and might be very seasonably recollected when we 
begin to be " weary of well doing," from the thought 
of having much to do. The present moment is all 
we have to do with in any sense : the past is irre- 
coverable ; the future is uncertain ; nor is it fair to 
burden one moment with the weight of the next. 
Sufficient unto the moment is the trouble thereof. 
If we had to walk a hundred miles, we should still 
have to take but one step at a time, and this process 
continued, would infallibly bring us to our journey's 
end. Fatigue generally begins, and is always in- 
creased, by calculating in a minute the exertion of 
hours. 

Thus in looking forward in future life, let us rec- 
ollect that we have not to sustain all its toil, to 
endure all its sufferings, or encounter all its crosses 
at once. One moment comes laden with its own 
little burdens, then flies and is succeeded by another 
no heavier than the last ; if one could be borne, so 
can another, and another. 

Even in looking forward to a single day, the 
spirit may sometimes faint from an anticipation of 
the duties, the labors, the trials of temper and 
patience that may be expected. Now, this is un- 



THE YOUNG DECL AIMER. 117 

justly laying the burden of many thousand moments 
upon one. Let any one resolve to do right noiv^ 
leaving then to do as it can ; and if he were to live 
to the age of Methuselah, he would never do wrong. 
But the common error is, to resolve to act right 
after breakfast, or after dinner, or to-morrow morn- 
ing, or next time; but now., just now, this once, we 
must go on the same as ever. 

It is easy, for instance, for the most ill-tempered 
person to resolve, that the next time he is provoked 
he will not let his temper overcome him ; but the 
victory would be to subdue temper on the present 
provocation. If, without taking up the burden of 
the future, we would always make the single effort 
at the present moment, while there would, at any 
time, be very little to do, yet by this simple process 
continued, everything would at last be done. 

It seems easier to do right to-morrow than to-day, 
merely because we forget, that when to-morrow 
comes, then will be now. Thus life passes with 
many, in resolutions for the future, which the pres- 
ent never fulfills. 

It is not thus with those who, " by patient contin- 
uance in well doing., seek for glory, honor, and 
immortality : " day by day, minute by minute, they 
execute the appointed task to which the requisite 
measure of strength and time is proportioned ; and 
thus, having worked while it was called day, they 



118 THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 

at length " rest from their labors, and their works 
follow them." 

Let us then, " whatever our hands find to do, do 
it with all our might," recollecting that ^'-now is the 
proper and accepted time." 



Ho-w^ to Have Friends. 

Every child must observe how much more happy 
and beloved some children appear to be than others. 
There are children with whom you may always love 
to be ; they are happy themselves, and they make 
others happy. But there are children whose society 
you would always avoid ; the very expression of 
whose countenances produces unpleasant feelings; 
and who seem to have no friends. 

1^0 person can be happy without friends. You 
cannot receive affection, unless you will also give it. 
Hence the importance of cultivating a cheerful and 
obliging disposition. You cannot be happy without 
it. I have sometimes heard a girl say, '' I know 
that I am very unpopular at school." Now, this is 
a plain confession that she is very disobliging and 
unamiable in her disposition. 

If your companions do not love you, it is your 
own fault. They cannot help loving you, if you 
will be kind and friendly. It is true that a sense 
of duty may at times render it necessary for you 
to do that which is displeasing to your companions. 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 119 

But if it is seen that you have a kind spirit ; that 
you are above selfishness ; that you are willing to 
make sacrifices of your own personal convenience 
to promote the happiness of your associates ; you 
will never be in want of friends. You must not 
regard it as your misfortune, but your fault, when 
others do not love you. It is not beauty, it is not 
wealth that will give you friends. Your heart must 
glow with kindness, if you would attract to your- 
self the esteem and affection of those by whom you 
are surrounded. 

You are little aware how much the happiness of 
your whole life depends upon the cultivation of an 
affectionate and obliging disposition. If you adopt 
the resolution to confer favors whenever you have 
an opportunity, you will surround yourself with 
friends. Begin upon this principle in childhood, and 
act upon it through life, and you will not only make 
yourself happy, but also promote the happiness of 
all within your influence. 



Habits. 
When a person has done a thing several times it 
is easy for him to do it again. What we have often 
done we are very likely to repeat. This doing a 
thing over and over again is called haUt — and when 
one of these habits become established we follow it 
without thinking. 



120 THE YOUNG DECL AIMER. 

Now, in fact, -we are what our habits make us. 
If we have a good set of habits we become - good, 
and if we have a bad set of habits they will make 
us bad and disagreeable. 

If this is true how important it is that we be care- 
fid as to the habits we form. Let us not forget that 
good or bad habits, formed in youth, will very likely 
go with us through life. 

Habits may be compared tp the clothes we wear. 
If our clothes are good and proper, they make us 
attractive. If they are dirty or ragged, they will 
tend to make us unpleasant associates. So good or 
bad habits affect our character and standing. If 
we form and practice good habits, they will give us 
influence for good with the good. But if we form 
bad habits our influence will be with the wicked for 
evil. Schoolmates, will you not strive earnestly to 
form good habits, and avoid all that are bad ? 



Self-conceit. 

AN ADDRESS, SPOKEN BY A VERY SMALL BOY. 

When boys are exhibiting in public, the polite- 
ness or curiosity of the hearers frequently induces 
them to inquire the names of the performers. To 
save the trouble of answers, so far as relates to my- 
self, my name is Charles Chatterbox. I was born 
in this town ; and have grown to my present enor- 
mous stature without any artificial help. It is true, 
I eat, drink, and sleep, and take as much care of my 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 121 

noble self as any young man about ; but I am a 
monstrous great student. There is no telling the 
half of what I have read. . 

Why, what do you think of the Arabian Tales ? 
Truth ! every word truth ! There's the story of 
the lamp, and of Rook's eggs as big as a meeting- 
house. And there is the history of Sinbad the 
Sailor. I have read every word of them. And I 
have read Tom Thumb's folio through, Winter Eve- 
ning Tales, and Seven Champions, and Parismus, 
and Parismenus, and Valentine and Orson, and 
Mother Bunch, and Seven Wise Masters, and a curi- 
ous book, entitled, Think well on't. 

Then there is another wonderful book contain- 
ing fifty reasons why an old bachelor was not mar- 
ried. The first was, that nobody would have liim ; 
and the second was, he declared to everybody that 
he would not marry ; and so it went on stronger and 
stronger. Then, at the close of the book, it gives 
an account of his marvelous death and burial. 
And in the aj psndix, it tells about his being ground 
over, and coming out as young, and as fresh, and as 
fair as ever. Then, every few pages, is a picture of 
him to the life. 

I have also read Pobinson Crusoe, and Reynard 
the fox and Moll Flanders ; and I have read twelve 
delightful novels, and Irish Rogues, and Life of St 
Patrick, and Philip Quarle, and Conjuror Crop, and 
-^sop's Fables, and Laugh and be fat, and Toby 



122 THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 

Lumpkin's Elegy on the Birth of a Child, and a 
Comedy on the Death of his Brother, and an Acros- 
tic, occasioned by a mortal sickness of his dear 
wife, of which she recovered. This famous author 
wrote a treatise on the Rise and Progress of Vege- 
tation ; and a whole Body of Divinity he comprised 
in four lines. 

I have read all the works of Pero Gilpin, whose 
memory was so extraordinary that he never forgot 
the hours of eating and slee[>irjg. This Pero was a 
rare lad. Why, he could stand on his head, as if it 
were a real pedestal ; his feet he used for drumsticks. 
He was trumpeter to the foot guards in Queen Bet- 
ty's time ; and if he had not blown his breath away, 
might have lived to this day. 

Then, I have read the history of a man who mar- 
ried for 'money, and of a woman that would wear 
her husband's small-clothes in spite of him ; and I 
have read four books of riddles and rebusses ; and 
all that is not half a quarter. 

Now, what signifies reading so much if one can't 
tell of it? In thinking over these things, I am 
sometimes so lost in company, that I don't hear any- 
thing that is said, till some one pops out that witty 
saying, "A penny for your thoughts." Then I say, 
to be sure, I was thinking of a book I had been 
reading. Once, in this mood, I came very near 
swallowing my cup and saucer ; and another time 
was upon the very point of taking down a punch- 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 123 

bowl, that held a gallon. Now, if I could fairly 
have gotten them down, they would not have hurt 
me a jot ; for my mind is capacious enough for a 
china shop. There is no choking a man of my 
reading. Why, if my mind can contain Genii and 
Giants, sixty feet high, and enchanted castles, why 
not a punch-bowl, and a whole tea board ? 

It was always conjectured that I should be a mon- 
strous great man ; and I believe, as much as I do 
the Spanish war, that I shall be a perfect Brobdig- 
nag in time. 

Well now, do you see, when I have read a book^ 
I go right off into the company of the ladies ; for 
they are the judges whether a man knows anything 
or not. Then I bring on a subject which will show 
my parts to the best advantage ; and I always mind 
and say a smart thing just before I quit. 

You must know, moreover, that I have learned a 
great deal of wit. I was the first man who invent- 
ed all that people say about cold tongues, and warm 
tongues, and may -bees. I invented the wit of kiss- 
ing the candle-stick when a lady holds it ; as also 
the plays of criminal and cross question ; and above 
all, I invented the wit of paying toll at bridges. In 
short, ladies and gentlemen, take me all in all, I am 
a downright curious fellow. 



124 THE YOUNG DECLAIMEK. 



Boys' Pockets. 
Did you ever turn a boy's pockets " inside out " 
and examine the contents ? " Oh my ! what a col- 
lection!" An old junk shop isn't a circumstance to 
a boy's pocket. Here you will find huttcns and 
cord, nails, cards, spools, tops, hits of tin, glass and 
leather — slate pencils, nut shells, Jews" -harps, and a 
pretty good sprinkling of cake crumbs - — all in a 
muddle. And then again notice the affection a boy 
has for this medley of the pocket ! He watches 
them as a miser does his gold. If his jacket or in- 
expressibles have a rent in them — and you know 
they do occasionally — and they are taken for repairs, 
what a flutter the owner is in lest some of his 
precious articles get lost ! O dear ! what a time ! 
Every identical thing must be turned upon the car- 
pet — crumbs included — (much to Betty's annoyance) 
and the choicest ones culled out. But he never has 
any tiling to be thrown away ; — not he — so there's 
not much left for Betty's benefit, except the afore- 
named crumbs — and she never fails to grumble over 
them, and then she votes boys a nuisance generally. 
Tommy takes it all very calmly if his pocket treas- 
ures are only secured. A slight scolding does not 
trouble him in the least, and he always goes off 
whistling briskly to show his manly independence. 
But if anybody steals a march on him, and relieves 
his pockets of their extra lading, it alters the case 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 125 

amazingly Then, look out for a storm. It's not 
the least use in the world to tell him they're not 
good for anything — for doesn't he know better — and 
doesn't he want to use every one of them — some- 
time ? So there is no peace until they are all forth- 
coming, and his much abused pockets are refilled. 
Oh boys ! boys ! what rude remnants of barbarism 
ye are ' ever opposed to law and order, and wild as 
unbroken colts ; — 

Noisy, breezy, free and easy, 
Full of fancy, full of fun ; 

Care for mother, teasing brother, 
"Born to trouble " every one. 



Let lis be Friendly. 

Dear Schoolmates, let us not forget that we are 
like members of one large family. We are sent 
here daily by our kind parents, that we may learn 
those things which we shall need to know when we 
become men. Our lessons may sometimes be hard, 
but if we are diligent and patient we shall surely 
learn them. As we spend many hours in every day 
in this school-room we ought to do all in our power 
to make it pleasant for each other and pleasant for 
our dear teacher. 

Soon our school-days will be over, and if we live, 
we shall be men and women in the community. 
What kind of men and women we shall be depends 



126 THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 

very much upon how we spend our time and im- 
prove our privileges wliile members of this school. 

Let us remember that each day has its own les- 
sons and try to learn them well. 

But most of all let us strive to form good habits, 
and to be kind to each other. Let us always delight 
to promote each other's happiness by doing kind 
acts and speaking pleasant words. 

" Schoolmates, do you love each other ? 

Are you always kind and and true ? 
Do you always do to others 

As you'd hove them do to you? 

Are you gentle to each other 1 

Are you careful, day by day. 
Not to give offence by actions. 

Or by anything you say ? 

My dear schoolmates, love each other. 

Never give another pain ; 
If your seat-mate speak in anger. 

Answer not in wrath again. 

Be not selfish to each other ; 

Never spoil another's rest ; 
Strive to make each other happy. 

And you will yourselves be blest." 



Tlie Blessing's of Sigrht. 
Schoolmates, do we often enough think of the 
many blessings for which we ought to be thankful 
to our Heavenly Father ? We enjoy many privi- 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 127 

leges and blessings, but how seldom do we think of 
Him who gives them to us ! 

How much we enjoy from the sense of sight ! 
But do we often enough think of those deprived of 
it, and how we should feel it we were denied the 
use of it ? Let us go to some asylum for the blind. 
There we shall find boys and girls, no larger than 
we are, w^io cannot see a particle. They cannot 
see, and have never seen, father or mother, brother 
or sister. They cannot see, and never have seen? 
the sky or the clouds — or the beautiful flowers and 
merry birds. All this bright world is a great black 
space to them. As it were, they are shut up in a 
dark closet all the time. They cannot read as we 
do. They must have books with great raised letters, 
that they may feel them with their fingers. They 
must study their lessons with their fingers. When 
they walk, they must feel their way carefully, lest 
they run against something. 

But we, dear schoolmates, could always see, and 
how thankful we ought to be for it. We have 
always had the most beautiful picture gallery before 
us, and yet how little of gratitude we have felt or 
expressed ! Let us never retire to our beds at night 
without thanking our good Father in heaven for the 
blessing of sight. 



PART III.-DTALOGTJES. 



Conduct. 

William. Well, friend Henry, I am real glad to 
see you, for I have wanted to talk with you about 
school matters. 

Henry. What is the trouble now, William ? I 
shall be glad to hear what you have to say. 

William. I have been thinking that our teacher 
has too much to say about our conduct — and espec- 
ially about our deportment out of school. If we 
study well in school and learn our lessons, I think 
we should be allowed to do as we please afterward. 

Henry. I cannot quite agree with you, William. 
Our deportment is of great consequence. Our 
teacher wishes us to behave well because it is for 
our good that we should do so. If we conduct our- 
selves properly, we shall not only be more happy 
ourselves but we shall make our friends happier. 
What are some of the things that you object to, 
William ? 

William. Why, she wishes us to be civil and 
orderly in the street ; to use no language that we 
(128) 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 129 

should be unwilling to have our mothers hear, and 
to answer every one politely and kindly. 

Henry. "Why, William, I hope you do not object 
to these things. If you do I cannot agree with 
you. Our teacher wishes us to be particular in 
these matters because it is right for us to be so. 
Now, honestly, friend William, do you not think our 
teacher is right ? 

William. Perhaps she is right and reasonable — 
but I must say I like to do as I please when I am 
out of school. 

Henry. We all like to do as we please, but 
ought it not to please us best to do what is right ? 
If so, we can please our teacher and parents at the 
same time. We certainly ought to try to be good 
and to do good — ought we not ? 

William. Why — yes — but then I like to have 
my own way. 

Henry. Very well, you can have your own way, 
and if that way is a good way you will be happy in 
it ; but if it is a bad way you will not only be un- 
happy yourself, but you will make others unhappy 
also. There is Dick Lawless who has his own way 
to perfection ; he uses wicked and improper language, 
runs after carriages in the street, answers people 
rudely, and is uncivil to everybody — and no one 
likes him. Now do you wish to imitate his exam- 
ple, and to be like him ? 

William. Why, no, Henry, I cannot say that J 



ISO THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 

do in all respects. I certainly would not wish to 
use improper language. 

Henry. I am glad to hear you say so much, 
William. I am sure if you will properly reflect 
on the subject you will find that our teacher is about 
right, and that she is one of our very best friends. 
Will you not think of this ? 

William. Yes, Henry, I will. I confess I have 
not thought much about it, and what you have said 
makes me think that I have not felt quite right, nor 
acted quite right. I thank ^^ou for your friendly 
talk, and I certainly will consider what you have 
said. Good-bye. 

Henry. Good-bye. 



Boys' RigMs. 

Amos. Will, have you read what Mr. Beecher 
says about boys ? 

William. Yes ! that I have ! We gave him 
three times three for it. Didn't he take up the 
cudgel finely ! 

Frederic. Three times three ! indeed ; we gave 
him nine times nine ! and Walton says he has a 
more just appreciation of boys than" anybody in the 
world, excepting mj'- mother, and you know every 
one calls her " boy-protector." 

Amos. Yes! and all the boys like her, big and 
little. 



THE YOUNG DECL AIMER. 131 

Frederic. That's because she likes boys as well 
as she does girls ; and other ladies don't, you know. 
They always invite the girls to the weddings and 
parties. 

William. Yes, and when people write to my 
mother, to make them a visit in the country, they 
always say, "Bring one or two of the girls with 
you." The boys of course, are welcome to stay away ! 

Frederic. I know it, Will ; the ladies say boys 
are so rude ; and I think they're rude only because 
they know the ladies dislike them, and they think 
that's unjust. 

William. So it is, Fred ; boys are never rude to 
your mother. They couldn't be. She always speaks 
so kindly to them, and appears to have respect for 
them, and for what they like. 

Frederic. So she has ! We always expect her 
to take a share in all we do. We talk to her about 
our books, and tell her all our fun, and all our 
troubles, too, and she thinks as much about them as 
if we were grown up, and don't call them trifles. 

William. I know it ; I like to be at your house 
better than anywhere else. 

Frederic. Mother often invites boys to stay there, 
and they always make friends with her. They're 
all kind to her, and try to please her. 

Amos. To be sure they do ; they couldn't help 
it if they tried. 

Frederic, She says boys are a much-abused 



132 THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 

race, and that ihey have rights that ought to be re- 
spected. 

William. So they have ! and it is too bad to be 
treated as all those little fellows were the other 
night. They went a whole hour too early, and sat 
waiting in that hot room, so as to get a front seat 
where they could see Mr. Curtis, and hear him well. 
Some ladies and gentlemen came too late, after he 
had begun to lecture, and the boys were turned out 
of their seats and placed where they could not see 
him at all. 

Frederic. Mother saw it. She said she would 
not have taken the seat and spoiled the pleasure of 
the little fellows ; or, if one had willingly given her 
his seat, she would have held him on her lap. But 
hasn't Mr. Beecher a good notion of what boys 
like ? He doesn't forget he was a boy once. 

Amos. No, that he don't, and we boys will not 
forget him. We will call him " the boys' friend," — 
or the " advocate of boys' rights." 



The Irish. Servant. 

Patrick. [ Taking off his hat and bowing.'] An' 
plaze yer honor, would ye be after giving employ- 
ment to a faithful servant, who has been rekimmend- 
ed to call upon yer honor ? 

Gentleman. What may I call your name ? 

Patrick, My name is Patrick Lynch, and I have 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMED. 133 

always been called Pat, and jou are at liberty to 
call me that same. 

Geiil. Well, Pat, who was your last master ? 

Patrick. Mr. Jacobs, plaze yer honor ; and a 
nicer man never brathed. 

Gent. How long did yon live with Mr. Jacobs ? 

Patrick. In troth, sir, I can't tell. I passed my 
time so pleasant in his sarvice that I niver kept any 
account of it, at all, at all. I might have lived with 
hira all the days of my life, and a great deal longer, 
if I had plazed to do so- 

GenL Why, then, did you leave liim? 

Patrick. It was by mutual agrament The 
truth was, we didn't just agree, and he said I should 
not live with him longer ; and at the same instant, 
you see, I declared I would not live with him ; so 
we parted on good terms ; by agrament, you see. 

Gent. Well, Pat, how old are you now ? 

Patrick. I am just the same age of Patrick O* 
Leary. He and I were born the same wake. 

Gent. And how old is he .'' 

Patrick. He is jist my age- He and I are jist 
of an age, you see, only one of us is older than the 
other ; but which is the oldest I camiot say, neither 
can Patrick. 

Gent. Were you born in Dublin ? 

Patrick. No, sir, j)laze yer honor, though I might 
have been, if I had desii-ed ; but, as I always pre- 
ferred the country, I was born there; and, plaze 



134 THE YOUNG RECLAIMER. 

God, if I live and do well, 111 be buried in the same 
parish I was born in. 

Gent You can write, I suppose. 

Patrick. Yes, sir ; as fast as a dog- can trot. 

Gent. What is the usual mode of traveling in 
Ireland ? 

Patrick. Why, sir, if you travel by water, you 
must take a boat ; and, if you travel by land, it must 
be either in a chaise or on horseback; and they 
who cannot afford either, must trudge on foot, which, 
to my mind, is decidedly the safest and chapest 
mode of moving about. 

Gent. And which is the jDleasantest season for 
traveling ? 

Patrick. Faith, sir, when a man has most money 
in his pocket. 

GeM. I think your roads are passably good. 

Patrick. And ye may well say that, yer honor, 
if you only pay the toll-man. 

Gent I understand you have many black cattle 
in Ireland. 

Patrick, Faith, we have plenty of every color. 

Gent. I think you ha,ve too much rain in your 
country ? 

Patrick^ Yes, yer honor ; but Sir Boyle, bless 
his soul, has promised to bring in an act of parlia- 
ment ill tuvor of fair weather. It was he that first 
proposed tliat every quart bottle should hold jist 
two pint^ 



thh; young decl aimer. 135 

Gent. As you have many fine rivers, I suppo-e 
you have an abundance of nice fish. 

Patrick. And well may you say that ; for water 
never wet better ones. Why, master, I won't tell 
you a lie ; but, if you were at the Boync, you could 
get salmon and trout for nothing ; and, if 3'ou were 
at Ballyshanny, you'd get them for much less. 

Gent. Well you seem to be a clever fellow, and, 
if you will call again to-morrow, I will see what I 
cr.n do for you. 

Patrick. I will, yer honor. Pace to your good 
sowl. 



Doing- Rigrlit. 

George. I will never play with Charlie Mason 
again, for he is a naughty boy and I don't love him. 

John. What now, George ? I thought jou. and 
Charlie were great friends. 

George. And so we have been, but we shall not 
be any longer. He caught my new ball and ran 
away with it. 

John. But why did he do so ? 

George. Why, we were playing, and he asked 
me to let him take it. I told him I did not like to 
lend it, and pretty soon wdien it bounced over his 
way he caught it and ran home w^ith it. 

John. Well, it was wrong for Charlie to take it 
in that way. But if he had a new ball, would you 
not like to take it for a while ? 



136 THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 

George. Certainly, I would. 

John. And don't you think he would let you 
take it ? 

George, Why, yes, I guess so ; for Charlie is a 
very good boy sometimes. 

John. Well, George, do you remember that the 
golden rule says we must do to others as we would 
like to have them do to us? You say that you 
would much like to play with Charlie's ball, and yet 
you are not willing he should play with yours. 
This is not doing as you would be done by. You 
have both done wrong. 

George. But Charlie has my ball, and he has no 
right to keep it. 

John. Well, he will return it to you soon, I have 
no doubt. 

George. He had no right to take it, and surely 
he did not do to me as he would have me do to him. 

John. I suppose he did not consider anything 
about it, — any more than you did in not letting him 
play with you. But don't you remember how kind 
Charlie was, a short time ago, when he had his new 
balloon ? Did you not play with it ? 

George. O yes I and I let it blow away into a 
big tree, and Patrick could not get it again. 

John. And did Charlie cry about it ? 

George. No, but he was very sorry, and so was I. 
I took the money uncle gave me and bought some 
paper, and sister Mary made him a new balloon. 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 137 

John. And did you not feel happy when you 
carried it to him ? And was not Charlie very glad 
to have it ? 

George. Yes, indeed, he was, and he has it now, 
and sometimes we play with it. 

John. That was doing right. You lost his bal- 
loon and gave him another. 

George. If Charlie loses my ball do you think 
he will do right and bring me another ? 

John. Certa'nly, he will, if he is a good boy, as 
I think he is. 

(Enter Charlie.) 

Charlie. Here is your ball, George. I did wrong 
to take it away, and I am very sorry I did so. I 
hope you will forgive me. 

George. O, certainly, I will ; and I am very 
sorry I refused to let you take the ball. I will try 
to be better hereafter, and practice the golden rule. 

Charlie. That's just what I mean to do : — so we 
will be good friends — as we always have been. 



About School. 

Henry, William, I am glad to see you, for I 
want to have a little talk with you about our school. 
Don't you think we have a very good teacher, and a 
very pleasant school ? 

William. No, I am sure I do not. I perfectly 
hate school and all that belongs to it. I might like 
it well enough if we had a different teacher. 



138 THE YOUNG DECLAIMEK. 

Henry. Why, William, how can you speak so ! 
For my part I think we have a very kind and faith- 
ful teacher. I am sure she tries hard to teach us. 

William, Well, perhaps she does ; but she is so 
very particular and strict that we cannot have a bit 
of fun. 

Henry. We do not come to school for the sake 
of fun, but we come to learn those lessons which 
will prepare us to " act well our parts in lift." 

William. It may be well enough to learn some 
lessons, but what is the u^e of being so very strict 
and particular ? I can't see any harm in whispering 
and laughing, but if I only speak a word the teacher 
gives me a check and I have to stay after school. 

Henry. But you must remember, friend William, 
that we cannot work and play at the same time. If 
we wish to study and learn our lessons, it is very 
impoi tant that we have a quiet school room. If all 
the pupils should do as you wish to do, and whisper 
and laugh whenever they pleased, we could not h arn 
anything. Our teacher is particular for our good, 
and not for the sake of troubling us. Would you 
really like to attend school where the teacher would 
allow the pupils to do as they please ? Would not 
such a school be all in confusion ? 

William. It might be all confusion, but it would 
suit me well er,ough. I like to have a lively time. 

Henry. So do I like to have a lively time, but 
not at an improper time, nor in the wrong place. 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER, 139 

Our parents and friends furnish us with a good 
school, and give us the time to attend the same, — 
not that we may play, but that we may learn. Now, 
William, do. you think it is treating them properly 
if we spend our time in the school-room in laughing 
and playing ? Are we not ungrateful, to say the 
least ? 

William. I had not thought of that before, and 
I must confe.ss that it is not quite riglit to waste or 
misuse our time, as I have done. I thank you, Hen- 
ry, for your kind words, and I hope I shall do bet- 
ter in the future. Certainly, I will try to do so. 

Henry. Good for jou, William, and if you will 
only persevere you will find our school and teacher 
all right, and you will enjoy coming to school as you 
have never done before. 



Don't Be too Positive. 

Sarah. Mother, may I go and spend this after- 
noon with Mary Smith ? 

Mother. How do you know she will be at home, 
and that she will wish to see you ? 

Sarah. Because, mother, she asked me to come, 
and said she should be at home and that we would 
have a nice time. 

Mother. When did she ask you, Sarah ? 

Sarah. Yesterday — yes, yesterday afternoon. 



140 THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 

Mother. Are you snre, my daughter, that it was 
yesterday ? 

Sarah. Yes, motlier, I am sure. I saw her on 
the green, near the school-house. We had quite a 
pleasant talk, and I am. certain it was yesterday — 
just as certain as ean be. Why^ mother, how could 
I be mistaken ? I hnow it was yesterday, — and in 
the afternoon — soon after dinner. 

Mother. That cannot have been, Sarah, for I 
have just come from Mrs. Smith's, and she told me 
that Mary went to Boston on the morning train yes- 
terday, 

Sarah. Oh! well, — come to think of it, it was 
not yesterday, but day before. Yes, now I remem- 
ber, mother, it was day before yesterday. She was 
going to Boston in the morning and return in the 
afternoon. 

Mother. Well, my child, I am very sorry to see 
you so very certain — so positively sure, when really 
you are not sure, but wrong in your impression. 
You must learn to be more careful. I shall let you 
go and see Mary, and, as you walk along, reflect 
upon your error, and hereafter be very careful and 
not be too positive. 

Sarah. Thank you, mother; 1 will not forget 
what you say. 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 141 



Fortune Telling-. 

George, I wish I had a book which they sell at 
the stores for telling one's fortune. 

William. O ! so do I. They say they are very 
nice indeed, and that from them you can learn what 
your fate will be. It will tell all about our future. 

George. That is so, — and T mean to get one as 
soon as I have money enough, — and then I can 
learn what my luck is to be. 

Amos. Why, boys, I have a book that will tell 
your fortunes, and very correctly, too. 

George. You have one ? Why did you not tell 
us before ? Where is it ? Do let us see it. I 
am quite impatient to know what my fortune is to 
be. 

Amos. Well, I will let you see mine, sometime. 

William. And will it really tell what will come 
to pass, Amos, or are you only fooling us ? 

Amos. What it says may be relied on, — and it 
will tell us what will come to pass. 

George. But how do you know that ? You have 
not lived long enough to know if it has told your 
fortune right. 

Amos. Not mine, it may be true, yet. But it is 
a very old book. My grandfather owned it, and he 
said it told the truth, and my father had it and it 
proved itself true to him. 



142 THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 

William. Well, now that beats all I ever heard. 
It must be a prize. Why don't you take it and go 
around telling fortunes ? You would make lots of 
money. 

Amos. But I am afraid people would be slow to 
believe me, even though I sliould predict truly con- 
cerning them. 

George. Will you sell it to me, Amos ? If you 
will I will Fee what I can do with it. 

Amos. I cannot sell it. It was a present from 
my dear father, and I would not part with it for 
any sum. 

William. Well, you will let us see it, won't you ? 

Amos. Certainly, I will, and I can tell you 
where you may get one like mine. ^ 

George. Let us see yours first, and if that tells 
us the truth we will buy one for ourselves. 

Amos. If you will wait here a few minutes I will 
get mine and read some of it to you. 
( Goes after the hook.) 

William. George, I can hardly wait till he re- 
turns, — but I suppose he will not be gone long. 
There, — he comes now, with the book in his hand. 

Amos. This is the book, and I will read from it, 
and what it says you may be sure will come to pass. 
(Ames reads.) 

"He becometh poor that dealeth with a slack 
hand ; but the hand of the diligent maketh rich." 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 143 

" The fear of the Lord prolongeth days ; but the 
years of the wicked shall be shortened." 

" There shall no evil happen to the just ; but the 
wicked shall be filled with mischief." 

'' He that walketh with wise men shall be wise ; 
but a companion of fools shall be destroyed." 

"A soft answer turneth away wrath; but griev- 
ous words stir up anger." 

'" He that covereth his sins shall not prosper." 

" A wise son maketh a glad father ; but a foolish 
son is the heaviness of his mother." 

'• And we know that all things work together for 
good to them that love God." 

All these and many other predictions are in the 
book, and they have always proved true and they 
always will. 

William and George. Do tell us the title of the 
book that we may get one for ourselves. 

Amos. It is called "The Bible," — and if you 
will read it carefully, you will find it is the best for- 
tune telling book in the world : — indeed, it is the 
only reliable one. 



Strict Honesty. 

Sarah. I say, Jane, just bring me a sheet of 
writing-paper, will you ? for I must write a letter. 
Jane. Where am I to find it ? 



144 THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 

Sarah. Why there's plenty in my mistress's let- 
ter-case in the parlor. 

Jane. Yes ; but that is not mine, nor yours either. 

Sarah. Well, what does that signify ? I am sure 
there is plenty ; my mistress will never miss it ; and 
what's the value of a sheet of paper ? 

Jane. Why, whether my mistress should miss it 
or not, makes no difference at all. It is not mine, 
and I cannot take it ; it is not honest. 

Sarah. Honest, indeed ! Well, I never was sus- 
pected of being dishonest in my life ; and I lived 
four years in my last place, and I had a good char- 
acter for honesty when I came away, and I never 
scrupled to take a trifle of that kind either. 

Jane. It seems then your mistress did not know 
that these trifles were taken, or perhaps the charac- 
ter she gave you might have been ditFerent. 

Sarah. Why, as to that, what is the value, I say, 
of a sheet of paper ? My mistress can afford that 
well enough, I warrant you. 

Jane. Why, now, it seems to me that the value 
of the thing signifies nothing ; the question is 
whether it is mine, or whether it is not; and if it is 
not, I have no business to lay a finger on it. Be- 
sides, I look upon it, that when we take a little 
thing because we think it will not be missed, it is a 
sign that we only keep our hands from greater 
things because we think they will be missed. 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 145 

Sarah, Nay, I think I would not take a great 
thing either. 

Jane. Why not? 

Sarah. I don't know. 

Jane. No ; but depend upon it that, if you have 
a right principle, it will keep you from small crimes 
as well as great ones. You remember the verse 
that our old dame taught us at school : 

" It is a sin to steal a pin, 
Much more to steal a greater thing." 

And we have been taught to keep "our hands from 
picking and stealing." And though, perhaps, we 
may do these things without being seen, that does 
not turn wrong into right. Besides, those who do 
these things, always take care to do them when 
their masters and mistresses do not see them. 
Now, if they did not know that they were doing 
wrong, they would not be ashamed of being seen. 
We may be pretty sure that, when we are afraid of 
being seen, we know that we are doing what we 
ought not to do. 

Sarah. Well, I believe you are right ; but I can- 
not help often thinking that you are too particular. 
Why, the other day, when a few little sweet cakes 
came out of the dining-room after dinner, you would 
not as much as give me one, and I dare say you 
would not touch one yourself. 

Jane. I could not give you one, Sarah, for they 



146 THE YotJNa- DZCLAimm. 

were not mine; and, for tlie same reason, I, of 
course, could not touch one myself. 

Sarah. Why, they never would have been 
missed; neither ma-ter nor mistress would have 
counted them. If I had thought they would, I 
would not have touched one for the world ; for they 
never would have believed me to be honest again; 
and, with a servant, character is everything. 

Jane. Why, to be sure, to a servant character is 
a great thing ; but, I think, principle is a greater. 
If we forget what is the right principle to act upon, 
and only think of character, I doubt not there will be 
many a time when the temptation to do wrong will 
lead us astray, when we think that nobody is look- 
ing on ; therefore the Scripture rule, " Thou, God, 
seest me," is always the right rule in great things 
as well as little. 

Sarah. Why, that is true, to be sure. And as 
to taking a little cake or so, I do remember that 
Betty Wilkins took one, and her master found her 
out, for he had long thought that the little things 
disappeared by degrees ; and so he really did count 
the cakes that went out one day af er dinner, and 
one wa^ gone ; and so Betty, who had the care of 
them, wa^ found out and turned away. The master 
said he did not care a pin about the value of the 
cake, but he never could feel comfortable in trust- 
mg anything to her care again. 

Jane. Why, I think everi/ master must feel so. 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMKR. 147 

Let 3"ou and me, Sarah, always keep on the right 
side, and then we need not mind who sees us. Let 
us be careful not to do wrong, and then we need not 
fear being found out. 

Sarah. I know your advice is good, Jane, and if 
we were all to keep it, it would be much better for 
us, and we should be much happier ; but, you know 
very well that servants do a hundred little things that 
they would not wish their masters or mistresses to 
know of. 

Jane. I know very well that a truly honest ser- 
vant would do nothing that she would be afraid to 
have known ; and whatever others may do is no 
rule at all to us. Our rule must be to do right, and 
may God's grace enable us to walk by this rule. 



On, liangruagre. 

Mamma. What book are you reading, Charles ? 

Charles. Bingley's Animal Biography, mamma. 

Mamma. Show me what part you were reading ; 
and tell me if you quite understand it. 

CJiarles. Nearly all of it, mamma. 

Mamma. I wish you, my dear, never to pass over 
a single word which you do not understand. Always 
ask for an explanation of it. 

Charles. Here is the place in the book, " The 
Antelope tribe." 



148 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 



Mamma. We will take this, then, for our lesson. 
Read it, Charles, one sentence at a time. 

Charles. ''' The antelopes are, in general, an ele- 
gant and active tribe of animals, inhabiting moun- 
tainous countries, where they bound among the 
rocks with so much lightness and elasticity, as to 
strike the spectator with astonishment." 

Mamma. Stop there, Charles. "What is the 
Antelope ? 

Lucy. An animal. 

Mamma. Of what class ? 

Fanny. A quadruped. 

Mamma. What is meant by saying, "they are 
in general active, etc ?" 

Charles. That they are most commonly so. 

Mamma. You are right. What do you mean 
by "elegant"? 

Charles. Graceful, well made, full of grace. 

Mamma. Can Lucy tell me what 'active' means? 

Lucy. Lively, moving about a great deal. 

Mamma. And what does a " tribe " mean ? 
A class, a race of beings. 
Give me an instance by which this can 



Fanny. 

Mamma. 
be proved. 

Charles. 
yesterday, 



Oh, mamma, the hymn we transposed 

* Let every nation, every tribe 
On this terrestrial ball/ etc. 



Mamma. What part of speech is ^ active ?' 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 149 

Fanny. An adjectire. 

Mamma. Lucy, tell me what your sister means 
by an adjective ? 

Lucy. A word added to a noun, to show its qual- 

Mamma. Which is the noun, then, here? 

Lucy. ' Tribe,' mamma. 

Mamma. What does ' an finimal,' mean ? 

Charles. Any living thing. 

Mamma. This is not a sufficiently clear defini- 
tion. 

Fanny. No, — because plants are alive ; but they 
are quite different from animals. 

Mamma. What distinguishes an animal from a 
plant ? 

Charles. The one can move itself where it 
pleases, and the other cannot. 

Mamma. Yes ; life is distinguished into animal 
and vegetable life. How will you define the differ- 
ence between them ? 

Fanny. Vegetable life is shown by plants grow- 
ing gradually larger, and producing seeds, from 
which other plants spring; and animal life is shown, 
as Charles said, by those who possess it being able 
to go from one place to another. 

Mamma. Yes, and by what is called volition, 
that is, the exercise of will. We will now go on. 
Explain the word ' inhabiting.' 

Fanny. Dwelling, or living, or existing in. 



150 THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 

Mamma. ' Mountainous countries/ 

Lucy. Countries full of mountains. 

Mamma. What would be the opposite to a moun- 
tainous country ? 

Fanny. A flat country. 

Mamma. Give me another word, Charles. 

Charles. A level, or even country. 

Mamma. What doiyou mean by ' a country T 

Lucy. Land, mamma. 

Mamma. Your papa has land, has he, therefore, 
a country ? 

Lucy. No, he has not ; his is only an estate. 

Mamma. You must then give me a clearer expla- 
nation of the word country. 

Fanny. A large tract of land joined together, 
and generally containing rivers and hills. 

Mamma. That is better, but how do you distin- 
guish this from a county"? 

Charles. Oh, a county is much smaller, mamma, 
it is a subdivision of a country. 

Mamma. The^e antelopes 'bound;' what does 
that mean ? 

Fanny. Jump, spring, leap. 

Mamma. 'Among ?' 

Charles. There it means, about and between, and 
upon. I do not know one word that will express it. 

Mamma. I think I know one beginning with A 
which is better than yours, Charles. 

Fanny. Amidst, mamma : am I right ? 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMEE. 151 

Mamma. Yes, Fanny. What am I to under- 
stand by ' a rock ?' 

Lucy. A very high, large place. 

Mamma. Then our house is a rock, Lucy, it is 
both high and large ? 

Lucy. Oh, no, mamma; a rock is a natural thing, 
and our house is an artificial thing. 

Mamma. Right, my dear ; I am glad you have 
remembered the meaning of those words ; but if 
you allow yourself time to think, you can give me a 
clearer idea of a rock than you have done. 

Lucy. It is high, like a hill, only stony, instead 
of earthy. 

Mamma. That is much better, Lucy ; what are 
its qualities ? 

Lucy. Hard, and cold, and craggy, and sharp. 

Mamma. What does ' lightness ' mean, Lucy ? 

Lucy. I suppose it means that it does not jump 
heavily and awkwardly. 

Mamma. Just so ; now for ' elasticity ?' 

Fanny. It means, does it not, that it springs eas- 
ily? 

Mamma. It does ; an elastic thing, when bent, 
returns easily to the same place again. Tell me 
the names of some things that are elastic ? 

Lucy. A bow, mamma. 

3famma. Now, another instance. 
Charles. India rubber. 



152 TH2 YOUNG DECLAIMER. 

Mamma, That is a very good illustration ; think 
again. 

Fanny. A watch spring. 

Mamma, Now another. 

Charles. A branch of a tree ; for, if you bend 
it down, it recovers itself instantly. 

Mamma. Very true. Is *to strike' a noun, 
Lucy? 

Lucy. No, mamma, a verb. 

Mamma. Why so ? 

Lucy. Because it expresses action. To strike is 
an active verb. 

Mamma. And its meaning is to give a blow ? 

Fanny. Sometimes, mamma ; but in this instance 
it means to make a person feel anything suddenly. 
That is a blow to the mind, is it not ? 

Mamma. You are right; and * astonishment ' 
means — 

Charles. Surprise, wonder. 

Mamma. And ' a spectator ' means — what Fan- 
ny? 

Fanny. A person who sees anything done. 

Mamma. But in one word, my dear ? 

Fanny. A beholder; an observer. 

Mamma. We have now got at the meaning of all 
these words ; tell me what you have understood by 
the sentence. Of what is it speaking? 

Lucy. Of antelopes. 

Mamma. What description is given of them ? 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 153 

Fanny. That they are elegant and active. 

Mamma, What feeling do they give to a specta- 
tor ? 

Lucy. They fill him with wonder. 

Mamma. Why do they do so ? 

Charles. Because they bound about the rocks 
with so much agility. 



Punctuality. 



Lizzie. Good morning, Helen. 

Helen. 0, Lizzie ! I am so glad to see you \ I 
did not know whether you would call for me or not. 
I've asked you to so many times, and you never did 
it. 

Lizzie. Well, I promised to this time, if you 
would promise to be ready. I always keep my prom- 
ises, but I see that you have not kept yours. 

Helen. O, I am almost ready. I have only my 
bonnet and cloak to put on. But how do you man- 
age to come along so early in the morning? It is 
not ten minutes since I finished my breakfast. 

Lizzie. It is not ? Why we had our breakfast 
an hour ago. 

Heltn. When did you dress, I'd like to know? 

Lizzie. I dressed before breakfast. That is the 
way I always do. Don't you ? 

Helen. No, indeed ! Our girl won't get up early 
enough ; mother always tells her to get us up in time 



164 THE YOUNG DECL AIMER. 

for me to go to school, but she don't get our rcom 
warm enough for us to be up before the breakfast- 
bell rings, and then, of course, I'm not ready for 
school. 

Lizzie. Yes, I suppose she has a fire to make in 
your room, one in the dining room, and one in the 
kitchen ; and then, when she gets breakfast ready, 
you are not ready to eat it. I do not think it is her 
fault if you are late. 

Helen. Well, one can't get up in a cold room 
these freezing mornings ; — ^but where are you going? 

Lizzie. I am going to school, or I shall be late 
too. 

Helen. Wait just a minute. 1 have only my 
gloves to put on. O, yes ! and there is my library 
book ! I do believe that I have not chosen my num- 
bers yet for another. Come, Lizzy, sit down and 
write them off for me while I find my gloves. 
There's a good girl. 

Lizzie. I don't know what to write for you, so 
it would be of no use to wait. And then you have 
your gloves to find, and your rubbers to warm and 
put on, and your cuffs ; — I must go ; good-bye ! 

Helen. O, now, Lizzy ! I should think if you 
loved me you might wait just a minute ; I don't like 
to go alone. 

Lizzie. But, Helen, if you loved me, you surely 
would not want to make me late to school, 
when I can't do you any good by waiting ? Just 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 155 

think how you would like to be kept out late, after 
getting up so early and trying so hard to be in sea- 
son. Now you must not be angry with me ; I'll 
talk it all over with you some other time. Good- 
bye. 

(Helen retires. Frances comes in.) 

Frances. My dear Lizzy, I'm afraid we shall be 
late. 

Lizzie. So am I ; but I really could not help it. 
And I am afraid that my dear Helen will not forgive 
me for not waiting still longer for her. 

Fiances. Wait for her? Why, she is always 
late. Does she want to make you late too ? 

Lizzie, You see, Frances, that she does not know 
how pleasant it is to be punctual. She is not there 
to see. I would not miss the bright smile and kiss 
of my teacher for anything. 

Frances. Your teacher kisses those that come 
late 1(^0, doesn't she ? 

Lizzie. Yes, but somehow she does not look right 
into their eyes so sweetly, nor grasp their hands so 
warmly. O, Frances, I do think that I have the 
best teacher that ever lived. 

Frances. Well, my teacher is not always there 
in season ; but I come early so as to get the tickets. 
I don't believe that Helen ever gets any tickets. 

Lizzie. No ; she says that she does not care for 
them ; but, for my part, I think that I should like to 



156 THE YOUNG DECLAIMER 

come early if my teacher did not, and if there were 
no tickets given out. 

Frances. Well, I don't know ; I don't see why 
you should. 

Lizzie. 0,*I always feel so much happier, be- 
cause it is right. I feel just as if God is better 
pleased with me if I am in season ; and though I 
wanted very much to please Helen by waiting for 
her, yet I thought I could not afford to displease 
God for the sake of pleasing her. But here we are 
at school. 

Frances. Well, I suppose you are right ; but 
here we are. The teacher is just getting up to read 
the hymn. In a minute more those cards would 
have been turned, and we would be obliged to 
to read the odious words, " I am late." 



Haug-htiness BelDuked* 

Thomas. I don't see why it is, George, that you 
call Colman Cutler the best boy in school. 

George. Surely he is the best scholar. Who 
else is so correct in his lessons and so prompt in his 
recitations ? He never fails, — and is always ready. 

Thomas. Ready enough it may be, but he is not 
always at the head of his class. I am there quite 
as often as he is. 

George, Very true. — you are there sometimes, 



THE YOUNG DECL AIMER. 157 

but how do you get there ? Is it by hard study, — 
or because you take a sly peep into your book ? 

Thomas. Who says I do so ? 

George. Who says so? Why, don't we all see 
you ! It was really funny the other day to hear 
you answer the wrong question, — and we could not 
help laughing when the master said you would have 
done nicely had it happened to you to answer the 
next question. Colman got above you that day, and 
he will not very soon lose the place. 

Thomas. That's nothing. It does not prove him 
to be the best scholar. He is by no means much of 
a gentleman. 

George. A school boy hardly claims to be much 
of a gentleman, — but Colman is a very jDolite and 
civil boy. He is always very kind, and ready to 
do a good act for any of his schoolmates. 

Thomas. What of that ? That does not prove 
that he is a gentleman or a gentlemanly boy. Just 
look at his clothes — do look at his clothes ! No 
tailor ever made them. They don't fit like my 
clothes. 

George. That's a good one ! As if the set of 
one's clothes made the gentleman. 

TJwmas. I did not mean the set alone ; but his 
clothes are coarse, and even patched. Just look at 
my clothes ! I wear the best cloth of any boy in 
school ; — and I carry a watch too. 



158 THE YOUNG DECL AIMER. 

George. And hence you think you are the first 
scholar — hey, Thomas ? 

Thomas. I said no such thing. But I heartily 
despise patched clothes, and scorn those who wear 
them. 

George. Well done ! Then you must scorn jne 
and nearly every other scholar in school. But I 
don't care. Nobody can play much without having 
a patch now and then. But, Thomas, let us go and 
play now. 

Thomas. No, George, I am not going to play : 
I have no time to play ; but your precious Colman 
has time for everything. 

George. That is very true, though you speak 
sneeringly. He knows how to take care of the 
minutes. Our teacher told us the other day that if 
we took care of the minutes we should have time 
for everytliing. She said that " drops make the 
ocean, and minutes make the years," — and I shall 
try to remember it. 

Thomas. You can remember what you please. 
For my part, I do not care to remember anything 
that our teacher says, — or that you say, — or that 
your friend Colman says either. 

George. Come, Thomas, don't be fretful. Let 
us go upon the play ground and have a good time. 

Thomas. Not I. You don't catch me playing 
with boys who wear patched clothes. 

George. Very well, if you prefer not to go, we 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMEE. 159 

can get along without you. I tru?t that you will at 
some time learn that real worth and goodness may 
exist under patched clothes as well as under the 
richest broadcloth. Remember that worth makes 
the man — the want of it, the fellow. 



On Politeness. 

Martha. Good morning, cousin Mary. I am glad 
to see you, for I have something to say to you. 
Julia and I have been talking very earnestly on a 
subject, and we became almost angry because we 
differed in opinion* I have been longing to see you 
that I might know your feelings on the subject, — and 
I am quite sure you will be on "my side." 

Mary. I should certainly be very sorry not to 
agree with you. I believe you and I think alike on 
most matters, and I hope we may now. Pray 
what subject has provoked so much excited feeling?. 
Some new style of bonnet or dress, I imagine. 

Martha, O no ! cousin Mary, neither of these. 
"We have been talking of the manners of two of our 
schoolmates — Sarah Wilson and Jane Smith. Julia 
prefers Sarah's manners, and I prefer Jane's. So 
there we differ. Julia thinks Sarah is a perfect pat- 
tern of i)ropriety, and I don't think so. 

Mary. But v/hat makes Julia think so ? 

Martha. Because Sarah always smiles so sweet- 
ly when she speaks ; — always shakes hands with 



160 THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 

people ; flatters them, and tells them of compliments 
she has heard of them, — and all that sort of thing. 

Mary. Is Sarah the same to all, cousin Martha ? 

Martha. Oh, no : — she is polite only to a certain 
set of people, — those she happens to fancy. But 
Jane is just the same to all, — rich or poor. I think 
true politeness requires us to treat all with respect 
and courtesy. Genuine jDoliteness must spring from 
a kind and generous heart. 

Mary. I agree with you there, Martha. This 
very day I saw illustrations of true and false polite- 
ness. As I was riding in the omnibus this morning, 
there were two well dressed young men. One of 
them was very polite to a nicely dressed young lady 
opposite him. If, by mere accident, he touched the 
hem of her dress, he made a very gracious apology, 
and the other passengers evidently regarded him as 
a model of politeness. The other young man was 
well dressed and quiet. Suddenly the omnibus 
stopped to take in an old lady who had with her a 
large bundle — and as the carriage was crowded she 
was obliged to hold the bundle. She looked feeble 
and fatigued, and, as the last named young man 
saw her, he kindly offered to take her bundle. At 
this, the young man and young lady first named ex- 
changed smiles and cast contemptuous glances at 
the young man with the bundle. The poor woman 
evidently noticed their conduct. However, she did 
not ride far, and when the omnibus stopped, — the 



thh: young declaimer. 161 

young man very kindly assisted her out, and with as 
much attention as though she had been a lady of 
high rank. I was greatly pleased, and made up my 
mind that the young man possessed genuine polite- 
ness. 

Mirtha. Well, now, your case is precisely like 
mine. I think Sarah aims to be polite to a certain 
class whom she regards with especial favor, while 
she treats others very coolly, not to say very impo- 
litely. But Jane is kind and pleasant to all, and 
wherever she is she succeeds in making tho£e around 
her happy. 

Mary. Very well, cousin Martha, I now under- 
stand your position, and I do most sincerely agree 
with you. As we both agree that Jane's conduct and 
manner is far preferable, let us both try to take her 
for our model. One who is truly kind and polite to 
all must enjoy the highest kind of satisfaction, for such 
an one may well feel that he is acting in accordance 
with the wishes of our good Father in Heaven. 
Let us remember that true ])oliteness comes from 
the better and nobler impul-es of our natures and 
requires that we should treat all with kindness and 
true courtesy. 



Hard to Please. 
Mr. Cross. Why do you keep me knocking all 
day at the door ? 



162 THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 

John. I was at work, sir, in the garden. As 
soon as I heard your knock, I ran to open the door 
with such haste that I fell down. 

Mr. C. No great harm was done in that ! Why 
didn't you leave the door open ? 

John. Why, sir, you scolded me yesterday be- 
because I did so. When it is open, you scold ; when 
it is shut, you scold. I should like to know what 
to do. 

Mr. O. What to do ? What to do, did you say ? 

John. I said it. Would you have me leave the 
door open ? 

Mr. a No. 

John. Would you have me keep it shut. 

Mr. a No. 

John. But, sir, it must be either open or — 

Mr. C. Don't presume to argue with me, fellow? 

John. But doesn't it hold to reason, that a door — 

Mr. G. Silence, I say \ 

John. And I say that a door must be either 
open or shut. Now, how will you have it ? 

3Ir. C. I have told you a thousand times, you 
provoking fellow — I have told you that I wished 
it — but what do you mean by questioning me, sir ? 
Have you trimmed the grape-vine, as I ordered you? 

John. I did that three days ago, sir. 

Mr. C. Have you washed the carriage ? 

John. I washed it before breakfast, sir, as usual. 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 163 

Mr, C. You idle, negligent fellow ! — you have'nt 
watered the horses to-day ! 

Jo/m. Go and see, sir, if you can make them 
drink any more. They have had their fill. 

Mr. C. Have you given them their oats ! 

John. Ask William ; he saw me do it. 

3Ir. C, But you have forgot to take the brown 
mare to be shod. Ah ! I have you now ! 

John. I have the blacksmith's bill, and here it is. 

Mr. C, My letters — Did you take them to the 
post-ofRce ? Ha ! You forgot that, — did you ? 

John. Not at all, sir. The letters were in the 
mail ten minutes after you handed them to me. 

Mr. C. How often have I told you, sir, not to 
scrape on that abominable violin of yours ? And 
yet this very morning, you — 

John. This morning? You forget, sir. You 
broke the violin all to pieces for me last Saturday 
night. 

Mr. G. I'm glad of it ! — Come, now ; that wood 
which I told you to saw and put into the shed, — 
why is it not done ? Answer me that. 

John. The wood is all sawed, split, and housed' 
sir ; besides doing that, I have watered all the trees 
in the garden, dug over three of the beds, and was 
digging another when you knocked. 

Mr. 0. O, I must get rid of this fellow. He 
will plague my life out of me. Out of my sight sir ! 



164 THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 



The Colonists. 
Mr, Barlow, Arthur, Beverly, Charles, Delville, 
Edward, Francis, George, Henry, Jasper, Lewis, 
Maurice, Oliver, Fhilip, and Robert. 

Mr. Barlow. Come, boys, I have a new play for 
you. I will be the founder of a colony ; and you 
shall be people of different trades and professions, 
coming to offer yourselves to go with me. — What 
are you, Arthur ? 

Arthur. I am a farmer, sir. 

Mr. B. Very well. Farming is the chief thing 
we have to depend upon. The farmer puts the seed 
into the earth, and takes care of it, when it is grown 
to the ripe corn ; without the farmer we should 
have no bread. But you must work very hard; 
there will be trees to cut down, and roots to drag 
out, and a great deal of labor. 

Arthur. I shall be ready to do my part. 

Mr. B. Well, then, I shall take you willingly, 
and as many more such good fellows as you can 
find. We shall have land enough ; and you may fall 
to work as soon as you please. Now for the next. 

Beverhf. I am a miller, sir. 

Mr. B. A very useful trade ! our corn must be 
ground, or it will do us but little good. What must 
we do for a mill, my friend ? 

Bev. I suppose we must make one. 



THE yOUN(J DECLAI3IER, 365 

Mr. B, Then we must take a mill-wright with 
us, and carry mill-stones. Who is next ? 

Charles. I am a carpenter, sir. 

Mr. B. The most necessary man that could offer. 
We shall find you work enough, never fear. 
There will be houses to build, fences to make, and 
chairs and tables besides. But all our timber is 
growing ; we shall have hard work to fell it, to saw 
boards and planks, to hew timber, and to frame and 
raise buildings, 

Charles. I will do my best, sir. 

Mr. B. Then I engage you ; but you had better 
bring two or thi"ee able hands along with you. 

Delville. I am a blacksmith, 

Mr. B. An excellent companion for the carpen- 
ter. We cannot do without either of you. You 
must bring your great bellows, anvil, and vise ; and 
we will 5et up a forge for you, as soon as we arrive. 
By the by, we shall want a mason for that. 

Edward. I am one, sir, 

Mr. B. Though we may live in log houses at 
first, we shall want brick-work, or stone-work, for 
chimneys, hearths, and ovens; so there will be em- 
ployment for a mason. Can you make bricks and 
burn lime ? 

Ed. I will try what I can do, sir, 

Mr. B. No man can do more. I engage jou. 
Who is next ? 

Francis. I am a shoemaker. 



166 THE TOUNG DECL AIMER. 

Mr. B. Shoes we cannot do well without ; but I 
fear we shall get no leather. 

Francis. But I can dress skins, sir. 

Mr. B. Can you ? Then you are a clever fel- 
low. I will have you, though I give you double 
wages. 

George. I am a tailor, sir. 

Mr. B. We must not go naked ; so there will be 
work for the tailor. But you are not above mend- 
ing, I hope ; for we must not mind wearing patched 
clothes, while we work in the woods. 

Geo. I am not, sir. 

Mr. B. Then I engage you, too. 

Henry. I am a silversmith, sir. 

Mr. B. Then, my friend, you cannot go to a 
worse place than a new colony to set up your trade 
in. 

Hen. But I understand clock and watch making 
too. 

Mr. B. We shall want to know how time goes ; 
but we cannot afford to employ you, at present : 
you had better stay where you are. 

Jas'per. I am a barber and hair dresser. 

Mr. B. What can we do with you? If you 
will shave our men^s rough beards once a week, and 
crop their hair onee a quarter, and be content to 
help the carpenter the rest of the time, we will take 
you. But you will have no ladies to curl, or gen- 
tlemea to powder, I assure you. 



THE YOUNG BECLAIMER. 167 

Lewis. I am a doctor. 

Mr. B. Then, sir^ you are very welcome; we 
shall some of us be sick ; and we are likely to 
get cuts, and bruises- and broken bones. You will 
be very useful. We shall take you with pleasure. 

Miurice. I am a lawyer, sir. 

Mr. B. Sir, your most obedient servant When 
we are rich enough to go to law, we will let you 
know. 

Oliver, I am a schoolmaster. 

Mr. B. That is a very respectable and useful 
profession. As soon as our children are old enough 
we shall be glad of your services. Though we are 
hard-working men, we do not mean to be ignorant ; 
every one among us must be taught reading and 
writing Until we have emplo3-ment for you in 
teaching, if you will keep our accounts, and, at pres- 
ent, read sermons to us on Sundays, we shall be 
glad to have you among us. Will you go .'' 

Oliver. With all my heart, sir. 

Mr. B Who comes here ? 

Philip. I am a soldier, sir ; will yoti have me ? 

Mr. B. We are peaceable people ; and I hope 
we shall not be obliged to fight. We are all soldiers, 
and must learn to defend ourselves; we shall have 
no occasion for you, unless you can be a mechanic 
or a farmer, as well as a soldier. Who next ? 

Robert. I am a gentleman, sir* 



168 THE YOUNG DECLAIMED, 

Mr. B. A gentleman ! And what good can you 
do us ? 

Roh, I expect to tboot game enough for my own 
eating ; you can give me a little bread and a few 
vegetables ; and the barber shall be my servant. 

Mr. B. Pray, sir, why should we do all this for 
you? 

Roh^ Why, sir, that you may have the credit of 
saying that you have one gentleman^ at least, in your 
colony. 

Mr. B. Ha I ha I ha I A fine gentleman, truly. 
Sir, when we desire the honor of your company we 
will send for you. 



Honesty, the Best Policy. 

Mr. Day. Well, Mr. Gay, I have been to inquire 
into the character of your son John, and find that 
his late employer, Mr. Smooth, thinks he will never 
do for a merchant. 

Mr. Ga'H. What does he say of him ? 

Mr. Day. He says that he has no tact; by which 
he means, no dexterity, no skill in driving a bargain. 

Mr. Gay. How did he prove it ? 

Mr. Day. Why, a lady came into the shop, the 
other day, and bought some silk, and as she was 
about to take it away, John discovered a flaw in it, 
and he told her of it; whereupon she, of course, 



THE YOUNO DECLAIMEE. IQO 

refused to take it, and the bargain was lost ; and 
John was dismissed in consequence. 

Mr. ■Gay. I would not have had him stay, for 
millions, in a shop where he would have been taught 
differently. Does Mr. Smooth say that John ought 
not to have undeceived the lady in regard to the 
sHk.? 

Mr. Day. He says that purchasers must look out 
for themselves ; and that, if goods are damaged, it is 
foolishness in tlie salesman to point it out. 

3ir. Gay. Well ; do }Ou know what I think of 
such morality, Mr. Day l! 

Mr. Day, I should like to have your opinion. 

Mr. Gay. Then here it is : I would rather have 
my son live and die a pauper, than grow rich by 
such deceit. 

Mr, Day. Mr. Gay, I agree with you fiilly. I 
wanted to see if the father held to as strict an integ- 
rity as the son. Send John to me at once. I will 
take him into my counting-room, and his salary sliall 
commence this very day. 

Mr. Gay.. Thank you, sir. I am sure that trick- 
ery and deceit are not essential to success in busi- 
ness. 

Mr, Day. You are right, Mr. Gay ; no man can 
be said to succeed who has grown rich by cheating. 
Though he may roll in riches, his life cannot in rea- 
son be called a success ; it is nothing but a deplor- 
able failure. 



170 THE YOUNG DECLAIMEK, 



Xieamiisg' and Usefulness, 

Thomas Life is much like a musical instrnraent 
on which every one plays to suit himself. Don't 
you think so, Edward ? 

Edward. YeSy — and all the better for that. 
The more music the better I like it. A merry 
noise always suits me — and any one who don't set his 
hours to musicy has a dull time of it. 

Thomas. All this might be very well, friend Ed- 
ward, if life had no serious duties which call for our 
attention. Ought we not to improve our minds and 
get that knowledge which will fit us for usefulness, 

Edward. Usefulness ! Why, in the present day 
for a man to prepare himself for usefulness, is like 
carrying coals to Newcastle. Oar country is full of 
useful men : ten, at least, where one is wanted, and 
all of them ten times as ready to serve tlie public 
as the public is to be served. Why if every man 
who is qualified should go to Congress, Washington 
would not hold a quarter of them. 

Thomas. You mean all who think themselves fit 
to go. 

Edward. No ; T meant as I said. 

Thomas. Then what do you think fits a man for 
Congress ? 

Edward, Why, he must be flippant and bold. 

Thomas What good will that do him if he is 
without knowledge ? 



Ti^E TOUNG DECL AIMER. 171 

Edward. O ! he must have knowledge, to be 
sure. 

Thomas. AA'ell, must he not be a man whom the 
people can trust ? Must he not understand politics, 
and be willing to serve his country ? 

Edward. Well, I agree to all that. 

Thomas. Then you think our Capitol would 
hardly hold the men who unite eloquence with con- 
fidence, knowledge with honesty, and policy with 
patriotism ? I fear a much smaller space would 
bold thpm all. 

Edward, TVell, I don't go so deep Into these 
matters. But this I know, there are always men 
enough who want all the offices. 

Thomas. Very true. But are there no other 
ways for doing good, and serving the pubHc? 

Edward. Why, yes : one may preach if he will 
do it for little or nothing ; or he may practice law 
or medicine, if he can get people to employ him ; 
or teach school, if he wdll live on a trifle and " board 
round ;" but I tell you the country is crowded with 
learned men begging business. 

Thomas. So you intend to prepare yourself for 
the ignorant herd, that you may not be crowded ? 

Edward. Yes, I have serious thoughts of it. 
You may do as you please, but I will never ruin a 
tine pair of eyes in preparing myself for usefulness, 
— unless the public will give me a bond to employ 
me when I am ready to serve them. Till such a 



172 THE YOUNG rrECLAIMEK. 

bond is signed, sealed, and delivered, I shall set mj 
hours to the tune of "Jack's alive." 

Thomas. Well, Edward, you have your choice : 
but I shall set my hours to a more serious tune. I 
ask no bond of the public. I shall gain all the 
knowledge I can, that I may be useful and do good 
in the world — and then when I am called to die I 
hope to find a rich reward in the reflection that my 
time has been well spent, and that I have done 
what I could for the good of others. 



The Children's Choice^ 

JOHN. 
I mean to be a soldier. 

With uniform quite new; 
I wish they'd let me have a drum. 

And be a captain too : 
I would go amid the battle 

With my broadsword in my hand. 
And hear the cannon rattle, 

And the music all so grand. 

MOTHER. 

My son ! my son ! what if that sword 
Should strike a noble heart, 

And bid some loving father 
From his little ones depart ] 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 173 

What comfort would your waving plumes 

And bi illiant dress bestow, 
"When you thought upon the widow's tears 

And her orphan's cry of woe ! 

WILLIAM. 

I mean to be a president, 

And rule each rising state, 
And hold my 'levees once a week 

For all the gay and great: 
I'll be a king, except a crown, 

For that they won't allow, 
And I'll find out what the tariff is, 

That puzzles me so now. 

MOTHER. 

My son ! my son ! the cares of state 
Are thorns upon the breast. 

That ever pierce the good man's heart, 
And rob him of his rest. 

The great and gay to him appear 
As trifling as the dust. 

For he knows how little they are worth- 
How faithless is their trust. 

LOUISA. 

I mean to be a cottage girl, 

And sit behind a rill. 
And morn and eve my pitcher there - - 

With purest water fill ; 



174 THE YOUNG DECLAIME^R. 

And I'll train a lovely woodbine 
Around my cottage door, 

And welcome to my winter hearth 
The wandering and the poor. 

MOTHER. 

Louisa, dear, a humble mind 

'Tis beautiful to see, 
And you shall never hear a word 

To check that mind, from me ; 
But ah ! remember, pride may dwell 

Beneath the woodbine shade ; 
And discontent, a sullen guest, 

The cottage hearth invade. 

CAROLINE. 

I will be gay and courtly, 

And dance away the hours ; 
Music, and sport, and joy shall dwell 

Beneath ray fairy bowers ; 
No heart shall ache with sadness 

Within my laughing hall, 
But the note of joy and gladness 

Re-echo to my call. 

MOTHER. 

Oh, children ! sad it makes my soul 
To hear your playful strain ; 

I cannot bear to chill your heart 
With images of pain ; 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 175 

Yet humbly take what God bestows, 

And like his own fair flowers, 
Look up in sunshine with a smile, 

And gently bend in showers. 



What Saith the Fountain P 

MARY. 
What saith the fountain, 

Hid in the glade, 
Where the tall mountain 

Throweth its shade ? 

SUSAN. 

" Deep in my waters reflected serene, 
All the soft beauty of heaven is seen ; 
Thus let thy bosom, from wild passions 

free, 
Ever the mirror of purity be." 

MARY. 

What saith the streamlet, 

Flowing so bright. 
Clear as a beamlet, 

Of silvery light ? 

SUSAN. 

" Morning and evening still floating 

along. 
Upward forever ascendeth my song ; 



176 THE YOUNG DECL AIMER. 



Be thou contented, whate'er may befall, 
ful 
all. 



Cheerful in knowing that God is o'er 



MARY. 

What saith the river, 

Majestic in flow, 
Moving forever 

Calmly and slow ? 

SUSAN. 

" Over my surfece the great vessels glide, 
Ocean-ward borne by my strong, heaving 

tide ; 
Toil on, my brother, life vanisheth fast, 
Labor unwearied, rest cometh at last." 

MARYc 

What saith the ocean, 

Boundless as night. 
Ceaseless in motion, 

Resistless in might ? 

SUSAN. 

" Fountain to streamlet, streamlet to 

river, 
All in my bosom commingle forever; 
Morning to noontide, noontide to night. 
Soon will eternity veil thee from sight." 



THE TOUNG DECLAIMER. 177 



Sunrise and Sunset. 

*' At evening-time it shall be light." 
MARY. 

How beautiful is morning, 

The childhood of the day ; 
Fair as an infant's smiling 
Beams its first rosy ray. 
How pure and sweet the flowers, 

Its holy dews have kissed ; 
How gorgeous are its cloudlets 
Of gold and amethyst. 
Oh ! then, earth, air, and sky, with music ring. 
And, like the lark, our souls at heaven's gate sing. 
Such be the morning of thy life's young day, 
Without a care to dim its rosy ray. 

ANNE. 

But morn, sweet morn, must vanish ; 

The sun ascendeth higher ; 
The purple clouds are scattered 

Before his glance of fire ; 
The flowers bend pale and drooping, 

Robbed of their pearly dew ; 

No lark's glad song is thrilling 

Yon sky of burning blue. 

Then comes the heat and burden of the day, 

Then must we toil beneath the scorching, ray. 



178 THE YOUNG DECLAIMEK. 

Toil bravely on, with patient, willing feet, 
For there remaineth yet a rest more sweet. 

HANNAH. 

Then, lovelier than the morning, 

With soft and rosy ray, 
Shall come the peaceful evening, 

To crown the well spent day. 
As balmy are the blossoms 

Its holy dews have kissed ; 
As rich its sunset-glories 
Of gold and amethyst. 
Then is the time to re>t ; 'neath angel wings, 
To slumber safe, till a new morning springs. 
Thus beauteous be thy life's declining ray, 
Thus mayst thou sleep, and wake to endless day. 



When We Love the Sunshine. 

MARY. 
I love the sunshine everywhere,— 

In wood, and field, and glen ; 
I love it in the busy haunts 

Of town-imprisoned men. 

LUCY. 

I love it when it streameth in 

The humble cottage door. 
And casts the checkered casement shade 

Upon the clean, white floor. 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 179 

ELLEN. 

I love it where the children lie 

Deep in the cloveiy grass, 
To watch among the twining roots, 

The gold green beetle pass. 

THOMAS. 

I love it on the breezy sea, 

To glance on sail and oar. 
While the great waves, like molten glass, 

Come leaping to the shore. 

HENRY. 

I love it on the mountain-tops. 

Where lies the thawless snow ; 
And half a kingdom, bathed in light. 

Lies stretching out below. 

ALL. 

Oh ! yes, we love the sunshine ! 

Like kindness, or like mirth, 
Upon a human countenance, 

Is sunshine on the earth. 

Upon the earth, — upon the sea, — 

And through the crystal air 
Or piled-up clouds, — the gracious sun 

Is glorious everywhere. 



180 THE YOUNG DECL AIMER. 



Wishes and Bealities. 

SUSAN. 

I wish I were a little bird 

To fly so far and high. 
And sail along the golden clouds, 

And through the azure sky. 
I'd be the first to see the sun 

Up from the ocean spring ; 
And ere it touched the glittering spire, 

His ray should gild my wing. 

MOTHER. 

Wings cannot soar above the sky, 

As thou in thought canst do ; 
Nor can the veiling clouds confine 

Thy mental eye's keen view. 
Not to the sun dost thou chant forth 

Tliy simple evening hymn ; 
Thou praisest Him before whose smile 

The noon-day sun grows dim. 

SUSAN. 

Above the hills I'd watch him still 
Far down the crimson west ; 

And sing to him my evening song, 
Ere yet I sought my rest. 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 181 

And many a land I then should see, 

As hill and plain I crossed, — 
Nor fear through all the pathless sky 

That I should e'er be lost. 

MOTHER. 

But thou may St learn to trace the sun 

Around the earth and sky, 
And see him rising, setting, still, 

AVhere distant oceans lie. 
To other lands the bird may guide 

His pinions through the air ; 
Ere yet he rests his wings, thou art, 

In thought, before him there. 

SUSAN". 

rd fly where, round the olive bough, 

The vine its tendrils weaves ; 
And shelter from the noon-beams seek 

Among the myrtle leaves. 
Now, if I climb our highest hill, 

How little can I see ! 
Oh ! had I but wings, mamma, 

How happy should I be. 

MOTHER. 

Though strong and free, the wing may droop. 

Or bands restrain its flight ; 
Thought none may stay — more fleet i s course 
. Than swiftest beams of light. 



182 THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 

A lovelier clime than birds can find. 
While summers go and come, 

Beyond this earth remains for those, 
Whom God doth summon home. 



I Can. and I Can't, 
JOHN, 
As through life's journey we go day by day, 
There are two whom we meet each turn of the way, 
To help or to hinder, to bless or to ban, — 
And the names of these two are^ " I can't," and " I 
can." 

CHARLES. 

IcanH is a dwarf, a poor, pale, puny imp ; 
His eyes are half blind, and his walk is a limp ; 
He stumbles and falls, or lies writhing with fear, 
Though danger is distant, and succor is near. 

HENRY. 

lean is a giant ; unbending he stands ; 
There is strength in his arm, and skill in his hands ; 
He asks for no favors ; he wants but a share 
Where labor is honest, and wages are fair. 

CHARLES. 

I can't is a sluggard, too lazy to work ; 

From duty he shrinks, every task he will shirk : 



THE YOUNG DECL AIMER. 183 

No bread on his board, and no meat in his bag j 
His house is a ruin, his coat is a rag. 

HENRY. 

I can is a worker; he tills the broad fields, 
And digs from the earth all the wealth which It 

yields ; 
The hum of his spindles begins with the light, 
And the fires of his forges are blazing all night. 

CHARLES. 

I can't is a coward, half fainting with fright; 
At the first thought of peril he sinks out of sight; 
Slinks and hides till the noise of the battle is past, 
Or sells his best friends, and turns traitor at last. 

HENRY. 

lean is a hero, the first in the field ; 
Though others may falter, he never will yield ; 
He makes the long marches, he strikes the last blow, 
His charge- is the whirlwind that scatters the foe» 

How grandly and nobly he stands to his trust. 
When roused at the call of a cause that is ju;t ; 
He weds his strong will to the valor of youth, 
And writes on his banner the watchword of Truth. 

ALL THREE. 

Then up and be doing ! the day is not long ; 
Throw fear to the winds : be patient and strong I 



184 THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 

Stand fast in your place, act your part like a man 
And when duty calls, answer promptly, — lean \ 



Wliat "We Love. 



MARY. 
I love the cheerfiil summer-time, 

With all its birds and flowers, — 
Its shining garments green and smooth, 

Its cool, refreshing showers. 

JENNIE. 

I love to hear the little birds 

That carol on the trees ; 
I love the gentle, murmuring stream, 

I love the evening breeze. 

ALICE. 

I love the bright and glorious sun. 
That gives us light and heat ; 

I love the pearly drops of dew 
That sparkle 'neath my feet. 

CHARLES. 

I love to hear the hum 

Of honey making bees, 
And learn a lesson, hard to learn. 

Of patient industry. 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 185 
HENKY. 

I love to see the playful lambs, 

So innocent and gay ; 
I love the faitiiful, watchful dog, 
Who guards them night and day. 

SARAH. 

I love to think of Him who made 
These pleasant things for me ; 
Who gave me life, and health, and strength. 
And eyes that I might see. 

MARTHA. 

I love the peaceful Sabbath day, 

So peaceful, calm and still ; 
And oh ! I love to go to church 

To learn my Maker's will. 



Conscience. 
WILLIAM. 

I have a little voice within 
That always tells me when I sin ; 
I'm sure I know not whence it came. 
Pray, sister, tell me what's its name? 
There is no one, however near. 
Whispers so sternly in my ear 5 
And often in my lively play^ 
If any thing I do or say 



186 THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 

That's wrong or wicked, then I hear 
This gentle tapping in my ear. 
I know it is not Mother's tone, 
Nor Father's, for when they are gone, 
It keeps on prompting just the same, 
If aught I do that they would blame. 

MARY. 

And, brother, don't it always tell 
In kindly notes when you've done well? 
Are not its whispers always mild 
When you have been a duteous child? 
God gave not to the bud nor Jlowsr, 
This inward voice of wondrous power. 
Ah, no, it only has its birth 
In us, who perish not with earth ; 
Its name is conscience, and 'twill be 
A voice from which you cannot flee ; 
It keeps a registry within. 
Rebuking those who live in sin, 
And utters words of softest tone 
To those who will its dictates own. 



Freedom's Jubilee, 
BOY. 



Father, look up and see that flag, 
How gracefully it flies — 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 187 

Those pretty stripes — they seem to be 
A rainbow in the skies. 

FATHER. 

It is your country's flag, my son, 

And proudly drinks the light ; 
O'er ocean's wave, in foreign climes, 

A symbol of our might. 

BOY. 

Father, what fearful noise is that, 

Like thundering in the clouds ? 
Why do the people wave their hats 

And rush along in crowds ? 

FATHER. 

It is the voice of cannonry — 

The glad shouts of the free ; 
This is a day to memory dear^ 

'Tis Freedom's Jubilee. 

BOY. 

I wish that I was now a man, 

I'd fire my cannon too ; 
And cheer as loudly as the rest— ^ 

But, father, why don't you ? 

FATHER. 

I am getting old, and weak — but still 
My heart is big with joy ; 



18S THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 

I've witnessed many a day like thia— 
Shout YOU aloud, my boy. 

BOY. 

Hurrah ! for Freedom's Jubilee ! 

God bless our native land ! 
And may I live to hold the boon 

Of Freedom in my hand ! 

FATHER. 

Well done, my boy — grow up and love 
The land that gave you birth — 

A land where freedom loves to dwell— 
A paradise on earth. 



The Child's Lessons. 



MARY. 

" Mother, may I stay at home ? 

I hate to go to school, 
And study all the live-long day ; 

I'd rather be a fool. 

"Little birds are flying round, 

So merry, bright, and gay ; 
And bees are buzzing in the vines 

The whole long summer day ; 

" Flowers nod brightly in the wind ; 
The trees are all in bloom ; 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 189 

And everywhere the sunshine laughs 
But in that old, close room. 

" I never want to see a book 

As long as I may live ; 
And, oh ! to play forever, 

There's nothing but I'd give. 

" Say, mother, will you give me leave 

To stay aut-doors all day ; 
And with the birds, and bees, and flowers. 

To have my fill of play ?" 

MOTHER. 

" No, dear, you must a lesson learn 
From birds, and flowers, and bees — 

From all the sunshine rests upon, 
Green grass and waving trees. 

" There's not a creature on the earth 

But has his work to do ; 
They all obey a Higher Power, 

And so, my child, must you. 

" The birds sing praises to our God ; 

The bees sweet honey give ; 
The trees bear fruit, and all the flowers 

Yield fragrance while they live.'* 

MARY. 

" But, mamma, butterflies don't work, 
They flit about all day ; 



190 THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 

• Their little, shiny, gauzy wings 

Are only fit for play. 
" And, dear mamma, I'm very sure, 

They'll teach me nothing new ; 
And none seem happier all the day, 

With not a thing to do." 

MOTHER. 

" One lesson you may learn, my dear. 
From the giddy butterfly — 

It may be 'tis their only work 
To teach it and to die : 

" At first they crawl upon the earth, 
A hateful, groveling thing; 

But soon unto a higher life 
They rise, on brilliant wing. 

" And you, my darling, too, one day, 

Immortal, shall arise: 
Be faithful here, and you shall dwell 

Forever in the skies." 



The Echo. 

Question, True faith, producing love to God and 
man, 
Say, Echo, is not this the gospel plan ? 
Echo.^ The gospel plan. 
*From an adjoining room or closet. 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 191 

Question. Must I my faith and love to Jesus show 
By doing good to all, both frieud and 

foe? 
Echo. Both friend and foe. 

Question. But if a brother hates and treats me ill, 
Must I return him good and love him 

still? 
Echo. Love him still. 

Question. If he my failings watches to reveal, 

Must I his faults as carefully conceal ? 
Echo. As carefully conceal. 

Question. But if my name and character he blast, 
And cruel malice, too, a long time last; 
And, if I sorrow and affliction know. 
He loves to add unto my cup of woe ; 
In this uncommon, this peculiar case. 
Sweet Echo, say, must I still love and 

bless ? 
Echo. Still love and bless. 

Question, Whatever usage ill I mny receive. 

Must I be patient still, and still forgive? 

Echo. Be patient still, and still forgive. 

Question. Why, Echo, how is this ? thou'rt sure a 
dove ! 



192 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 



Thy voice shall teach me nothing else 
but love ! 

Echo. Nothing else but lov6. 

Question. Amen, with all my heart then, be it so ; 
'Tis all delightful, just, and good, Tknow; 
And now, to practice, I'll directly go. 
Echo. Directly go. 

Question, Things being so, whoever me reject, 

My gracious God me surely will protect. 

Echo. Surely will protect. 

Question. Henceforth I'll roll on Him my evei 
care. 
And then both friend and foe embrace 
in prayer. 

Echo. Embrace in prayer. 

Question. But after all these duties I have done, 
Must I, in point of merit, them disown, 
And trust for Heaven through Jesus' 
blood alone ? 

Echo. Through Jesus' blood alone. 



Question. Echo, enough ! Thy counsels to mine ear 
Are sweeter than, to flowers, the 
dew-drop clear ; 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 193 

Thy wise, instructive lessons please me 

well ; 
I'll go and practice them. Farewell, 

farewell ! 

Echo, Practice them. Farewell, 
farewell. 



What To Be.* 



Be patient — life is very brief, 

It passes quickly by ; 
And if it prove a troubled scene 

Beneath a stormy sky, 
It is but like a shaded night 
That brings a morn of radiance bright. ' 

Be hopeful — faith will bring 

A living joy to thee 
And make thy life a hymn of praise, 

From doubt and murmur free ; 
Whilst, like the sunbeam, thou wilt bless. 
And bring to others happiness. 

Be earnest — an immortal soul 

Should be a worker true, 
Employ the talents for thy God, 

And ever keep in view 
The judgment scene, the great last day,— 
When heaven and earth shall pass away. 



*B7 six boys or girls, — one stanza each. 



194 THE YOUNG DECLAIMEK. 

Be holy — let not sin's dark stain 

The spirit's whiteness dim ; 
Keep close to God amid the world. 

And put thy trust in Him : 
So midst thy business and thy rest, 
Thou wilt be comforted and blest. 

Be prayerful — ask, and thou wilt have 

Strength equal to thy day ; 
Prayer clasps the hand that guides the world, 

Oh ! make it then thy stay ; 
Ask largely, and thy God will be 
A kingly giver unto thee. 

Be ready — many fall around, 

Our Aoved ones disappear, 
We know |K)t when our call may come, 

Nor should we wait in fear ; 
If ready, we can calmly rest ; 
Living or dying, we are blest. 



PART IV -FOR CONCERT RECITATION. 



G-od is Good. 
God is good ! each perfiimed flower, 

The waving field, the dark green wood ; 
The insect fluttering for an hour, — 

All things proclaim that God is good. 

I hear it in each breath of wind ; 

The hills that have for ages stood, 
And clouds, with gold and silver lined, 

All still repeat that God is good. 

Each streamlet, that for many a year 
Has the same verdant path pursued, 

And every bird in accents clear. 
Join in the song that God is good. 

The restless- sea, with haughty roar, 

Calms each wild wave and billows rude ; 

Retreats submissive from the shore 

And swells the chorus — " God is good." 

The countless host of twinkling stars, 
That sing His praise with light renewed ; 
(195) 



196 THE YOUNG DECL AIMER, 

The rising sun each day declares, 
In rays of glory — " God is good." 

The moon, that walks in brightness, says 
That God is good ! and man, endued 

With power to speak his Maker's praise. 
Should still repeat that " God is good." 



Hymn of Natiore.* 
God of the earth's extended plains ! 

The dark green fields contented lie : 
The mountains rise like holy towers. 

Where man might commune with the sky : 
The tall cliff challenges the storm 

That lowers upon the vale below. 
Where shaded fountains send their streams, 

With joyous music in their flow. • 

God of the dark and heavy deep ! 

The waves lie sleeping on the sands, 
Till the fierce trumpet of the storm 

Hath summoned up their thundering bands 
Then the white sails are dashed like foam, 

Or hurry, trembling, o'er the seas, 
Till, calmed by Thee, the sinking gale 

Serenely breathes — Depart in peace. 

*Let this be spoken by a class of six, — a yerse each— and let the lajit 
V«r8e be spoken by all in concert. 






THE YOUNa DECLAIMEK. 197 

God of the forest's solemn shade ! 

The grandeur of the lonely tree, 
That wrestles singly with the gale, 

Lifts up admiring eyes to Thee; 
But more majestic far they stand, 

When, side by side, their ranks they form 
To wave on high their plumes of green, 

And fight their battles with the storm. 

God of the light and viewless air ! 

Where summer breezes sweetly flow, 
Or, gathering in their airy might, 

The fierce and wintry tempests blow ; 
All, — ^from the evening's plaintive sigh, 

That hardly lifts the drooping flower. 
To the wild whirlwind's midnight cry, — 

Breath forth the language of Thy power. 

God of the fair and open sky ! 

How gloriously above us springs 
The tented dome of heavenly blue, 

Suspended on the rainbow's rings! 
Each brilliant star that sparkles through, 

Each gilded cloud that wanders free 
In evening's purple radiance, gives 

The beauty of its praise to Thee. 

God of the rolling orbs above ! 

Thy name is written clearly bright, 



198 THE YOUNG DECLAIMEK, 

In the warm day's unvarying blaze, 
Or evening's golden shower of light. 

For every fire that fronts the sun, 
And every spark that walks alone, 

Around the utmost verge of heaven, 
Were kindled at Thy burning throne. 

God of the world ! the hour must come. 

And Nature's self to dust return ; 
Her crumbling altars must decay ; 

Her incense fires shall cease to burn ; 
But still her grand and lovely scenes 

Have made man's warmest praises flow ; 
For hearts grow holier as they trace 

The beauty of the world below. 



Upward and Onward. 
Battling in the cause of truth 
With the zeal and strength of youth : 

Upward, raise your banner higher. 
Onward, urge your phalanx nigher 

To the centre of the strife, 
Strike, where virtue finds a foe — 
Strike, while love directs the blow — 

Where the foes of man are rife. 

Be your watchword truth and love, 
Be your stay the strength above ; 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER, 199 

'Mid the pure, remain the purest, 
'Mid the faithful, be the surest — 

Temperance your banner star. 
Ask not rest, nor pray for peace, 
'Till the demon foe shall cease 

Life and all its joys to mar. 

Warriors in the cause of right, 
Earnest in your zeal and might, 
Joying in your high endeavor. 
Onward press, and falter never, 

'Till the victory be won, 
Shout, until the field ye gain, 
Press to those which still remain, 

Battlino^ till the work be done. 



liittle l)y Little. 
One step, and then another, 

And the longest walk is ended ; 
One stitch, and then another, 

And the largest rent is mended ; 
One brick upon another, 

And the highest wall is made ; 
One flake upon another. 

And the deepest snow is laid. 

So the little coral workers, 

By their slow but constant motion. 



200 THE YOUNG DECLAIMEK, 

Have built those pretty islands 
In the distant, dark blue ocean ; 

And the noblest undertakings 
Man's wisdom hath conceived, 

By offc-repeated efforts 

Have been patiently achieved. 



Aspirations of Youth. 

Higher, higher will we climb, 

Up the mount of glory, 
That our names may live through time, 

In our country's story ; 
Happy, when her welfare calls, 
He who conquers, he who falls. 

Deeper, deeper let us toil 
In the mines of knowledge ; 

Nature's wealth, and learning's spoil 
"Win from school and college; 

Delve we there for richer gems, 

Than the stars of diadems. 

Onward, onward may we press, 
Through the path of duty ; 

Virtue is true happiness. 
Excellence true beauty; 

Minds are of celestial birth, — 

Make we then a heaven of earth. 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 201 

Closer, closer let us knit 

Hearts and hands together, 
"Where our fireside comforts sit, 

In the wildest weather ; 
Oh ! they wander wide who roam 
From the joys of life and home. 



Dare and Do- 

Dare to think, though others frown ; 

Dare in words your thoughts express ; 
Dare to rise, though oft cast down ; 

Dare the wronged and scorned to bless. 

Dare from custom to depart ; 

Dare the priceless pearl possess ; 
Dare to'wear it next your heart; 

Dare, when others curse, to bless. 

Dare forsake what you deem wrong ; 

Dare to walk in wisdom's way ; 
Dare to give where gifts belong; 

Dare God's precepts to obey. 

Do what conscience says is right; 

Do what reason says is best ; 
Do with all your mind and might ; 

Do your duty, and be blest. 



202 THE YOUNa DECL AIMER. 

Do G-ood. 

We all might do good 

Where we often do ill ; 
There is always the way, 

If there be but the will. 
Though it be but a word 

Kindly breathed or suppressed, 
It may guard off some pain, 

Or give peace to some breast. 

We may all do good 

In a thousand small ways, — 
In forbearing to flatter. 

Yet yielding due praise : 
I*n spurning all rumor, 

Reproving wrong done, ' 
And treating but kindly 

The hearts we have won. 

We all may do good. 

Whether lowly or great. 
For the deed is not gauged 

By the purse or estate ; 
If it be but a cup 

Of cold water that's given. 
Like the widow's two mites. 

It is something for Heaven. 



THE TOUNG DECLAIMER. 203 

So-w Seeds of Blindness. 

Let ns gather up the sunbeams 

Lying all around our path ; 
Let us keep the wheat and roses, 

Casting out the thorns and chaff; 
Let us find our sweetest comfort 

In the blessings of to-day, 
With a patient hand removing 

All the briers from the way. 

Strange we never prize the music 

Till the sweet-toned bird is flown ! 
Strange that we should slight the violets 

Till the lovely flowers are gone ! 
Strange that summer skies and sunshine 

Never seem one half so fair 
As when winter's snowy j^inions 

Shake the white down in the air. 

If we knew the baby fingers, 

Pressed against the window-pane. 
Would be cold and stiff to-morrow — 

Never trouble us again — 
Would the bright eyes of our darling 

Catch the frown upon our brow ? 
Would the print of rosy fingers 

Vex us then as they do now ? 

Ah ! those little ice-cold fingers ! 

How they point our memories back. 
To the hasty words and actions 

Strewn alonor our backward track ! 



204 THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 

How those little hands remind us, 
As in snowy grace they lie, 

Not to scatter thorns, but roses, 
For our reaping by and by ! 



Keep to tlie Kigrht. 

"Keep to the right," as the law directs, 

For such is the rule of the road : 
Keep to the right, whoever expects 

Securely to carry life's load. 

Keep to the right, with God and his word ; 

Nor wander, though folly allure ; 
Keep to the right, nor ever be turned » 

From what's faithful, and holy, and pure. 

Keep to the right, within and without, 
With stranger, and kindred, and friend; 

Keep to the right, and you need have no doubt, 
That all will be well in the end. 

Keep to the right in whatever you do, 
Nor claim but your own on the way ; 

Keep to the right, and hold on to the true, 
From the morn to the close of life's day. 



Speak No 111. 



Nay, speak no ill ! A kindly word 
Can never leave a stins; behind, 



THE YOUNG DECLAIMER. 205 

And oil ! to breathe each tale we've heard, 

Is far beneath a noble miud, 
Full oft a better seed is sown 

By choosing thus the kinder plan ; 
For if but little good be known, 

Still let us speak the best we can. 

Give me the heart that fain would hide — 

Would fain another's faults efface ; 
How can it pleasure human pride 

To prove humanity but base ? 
No ; let us reach a higher mood, 

A nobler estimate of man ; 
Be earnest in the search for good, 

And speak of all the best we can. 

Then speak no ill — but lenient be 

To other's failings as your own ; 
If you're the first a fault to see, 

Be not the first to make it known ; 
For life is but a passmg day, 

No lip may tell how brief its span ; 
Then oh ! the little time we stay. 

Let's speak of all the best we can. 



National Ieries oe @ ext-%ooks. 

Te/cscijiptive (Catalogue 1^\\zq to ^eaohcj;8. 

DEPARTME NT OF G EOGRAPHY. 

MONTEITH'S GEOGRAPHY 

Has been officially adopted for the following States : Alabama, Vermont, Min- 
nesota, Texas, Missouri, Virginia, Tennessee, Kansas, Iowa, Delaware, Ne- 
braska, North Carolina, Louisiana, Utah, Wyoming, Dakotah, and California. 



1. MoNTBiTu's First Lessons in Geoo. 

2. MoNTKiTu's Mancal of Geogeai'hy. 

3. MoNally's Complete Geography. 



MoNTEiTii's Introduction to Manual 
MoNTKiTii's Physical & iNTiaiiiEDiATE. 
Allen's Map-Dkawing. 



DEPARTMENT OF NATU RAL SCIENCE. 

STEELE'S "14 WEEKS" SERIES. 

"Fourteen "Weeks" in each science are very popular on account of the brief, 
but intensely interesting, and practical presentation of the subjects. 
Steele's 14 Weeks in Nat. Piiilosopuy'. I Steele's 14 Weeks in Astronomy. 
Steele's 14 Weeks in Chemistry. [ Steele's 14 Weeks in Geology. 

PECK'S NATURAL PHILOSOPHY. 

Unrivaled for beauty of illustration and clearness of statement. 
Peck's Ganot's Physics. I Norton's First Book in Philosophy. 

Peck's Elements of Mbohanics. | The First Book of Science (General). 

PORTER'S SIMPLE CHEMISTRY. 

Very practical. Can be used with an inexpensive set of apparatus. 
Poetek's First Book in Chemistry. | Porters Principles of Chemistry. 

JARVIS' HEALTH PHYSIOLOGY. 

The only text-books which make Health the prominent idea. 
Jaevis' Elements of Physiology. ] Jarvis' Phys. and Laws of Health. 

WOOD'S UNIVERSAL BOTANY. 

Used more largely than all competitors combined. 
"Wood's Object Lessons in Botany. I Wood's New Class Book of Botany. 
Wood's Amekioan Botanist & Florist. Darby's Southern Botany. 



DEPART MENT OF HISTORY. 

WILLARD'S HISTORY. 

The " United States History" alone has passed through three hundred editions. 
WiLLABD'a United States History, | Willard's Universal History. 

Monteith's Touth's History op U. S. I Kicord's History of Rome. 
Bbkard's Histoey of England. | Summary of History'. 90 pages. 



DEPARTME NT OF PE NMANSHIP. 

BEERS' PENMANSHIP. 

The round-hand system, and best and cheapest published. 
Beers' Copy-Books, in 12 Nos. | PaVson's Patent Copy-Book Coveb, 

SMITH Sc MARTIN'S BOOKKEEPING. 

A treatiee of great simplicity, by a practical teacher and a practical bookkeeper. 

A. S. BARNES & COMPANY, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK. 



National Iebibjf §m- 

Beecrjptive Catalogue ^rieo io t^eax^her^s, 
DEPARTMENT OF MATHEMATICS 

DAVIES' MATHEMATICS. 

Are justly called the National Standard. They are used in tlie great National 
Schools at Annapolis and West Point, in the Puhlic Schools of the National 
Capital, have received the quasi endorsement of the National Congress, and are 
sold more largely and are more popular in every section of the national bound- 
ary than any other series. 

Da vies' Primary Aeitiimetio. 1 t)AviEs' Practical Arithmetic. 

Davies' Intellectual Arithmetic. Davies' ITniversi*y AEiTHiMETio. 

Da vies' Elements of Wkittex ARtTii. | Davies' Grammar oi* Arithmetic. 



Davies' Elementaut Algebra. I Davies' Bottrdon's ALGfiBEA. 

Davies' University Algebra, Davies' Elements of Calculus. 



Daties' Elementary Geometry. | Davies' Legendee's Geometp.y. 



Davies' Prao. Matit. & Mensxjratton. 
Davies' Elements of Surveying (A^t'to). 
Davies' AwALtTiCAL Geometry. 



Davies' Analytical Geom. & Calculus. 
Davies' Descriptive Geometry. 
Davies' Shadows.Shades&Pekspectite 



DEPARTMENT OF FOREI GN LANGUAGE. 

WOEMAN'S GERMAN SERIES. 

New I With many improvements upon all competitors. They are endorsed 
and adopted by himdrede of the best, largest, and most influential institutions in 
the country. 

"Worman's Elem. German Grammar. I Worman's Complete Germ. Grammar. 
"Wokman's Germ. Ecuo {Conversation), j Worman's German Keadee. 

PUJOL'S FRENCH CLASS-BOOK. 

Being a thorough course (including the Lexicon) in one volume. Theory and 
Practice on opposite pages. 

Pujol's Complete French Class-Bootc. Lebru's Premh Grammar. 
Maurice-Poitevin's Gram. Francaise. Ledru's FRENfii Keadee. 
Worman's French Ecuo (Coyit'ersa-^to)?;). Ledru's French Fables. 

SEARING'S PEERLESS CLASSICS. 

With illustrations, notes; reference,?^ vocabularies, maps, questions, etc, etc. 
Searing's Yieoil's Aeneid. | Searing's Homer's Iliad. 



DEPARTMENT OF POLIT ICAL SCIENCE. 

CHAMPLIN'S POLITICAL ECONOMY. 

Brief and easy lessons on'the reciprocal relations of mankind, the laws of 
labor, commerce, and finance, and the elements of national and individual 
prosperity. 

MANSFIELD'S POLITICAL MANUAL. 

The science of government. Avith full description and explanation of the laws 
and Const'-tution of the United States. 



/. S. b\^M£S & COMPANY, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK. 



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